


The Highlander and the Celt

by Merkwurdigliebe



Series: The Morlock Chronicles [1]
Category: Dark Age of Camelot (Video Game)
Genre: Arthurian, Erotica, F/M, Historical Fantasy, Language Barrier, Original Character(s), Romance, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-10-05 14:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwurdigliebe/pseuds/Merkwurdigliebe
Summary: Two star-crossed lovers fight for love, honor, and a future in their new homeland.  But one of them harbors a deadly secret that could jeopardize the balance of power in the post-Arthurian realms of Albion, Hibernia, and Midgard.





	1. The Highlander and the Celt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**STOP**   

> 
> _The Morlock Chronicles_ is best read _in medias res_ starting with [Part Two: "Passion's Daughter"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015156/chapters/45156898), followed by Part One: "The Highlander and the Celt" and then the rest, however reading in chronological order is also perfectly acceptable, if you wish. But where is the fun in that?
> 
> Published September 2nd, 2019

> Oh muse! Sing in me, and through me tell the story  
of two people whose stars were crossed,  
and whose love changed the course of history…

* * *

This dungeon was never the mercenary’s favorite and now he was in unfamiliar territory. He looked around and saw his four companions - the ones who had led him here - dead. They lay in a neat circle about him alongside the five Hibernians they had just slain. How he had survived and his friends had not he would never understand, but that was something to think about later.

He was alone now. And he was in enemy territory. It was not all bad though since Hibernia was not in control of this dungeon at the moment. However, at a moment’s notice, dozens of elves could come streaming down the hallway with the express purpose of using the highlander’s nipples for target practice. The thought made the mercenary jealous of his infiltrator cousins.

“Time to find a way out.” he mumbled under his breath. Sheathing his swords the mercenary made his way down the first passage and was immediately greeted by a high wall. _This must be the way to the Elves’ land_, he thought. There was no way for him to scale the rock and he retraced his steps. He didn’t want to go to their silly home anyway.

In the main hall he noticed a pair of daemon worshipers under the arch. He felt at ease since there were no daemons accompanying them and they had always left him alone for the most part. Aside from the dirty looks he received the kilt-wearing fighter managed to pass without incident. Two more passages left to try and the one to the left was full of the most disgusting creatures he had ever seen. _Right, then_.

“Shite!” he exclaimed a little too loudly. The echo reverberated throughout the closed chapel as another dead end greeted the mercenary. In his rage he still noted the more refined stonework in this area. Almost as if the foul beasts never wandered here. He turned around to leave when he heard a shuffle behind him.

Timber Walker’s Defender came out of its sheath in the blink of an eye as the mercenary spun around expecting to deflect an assassin’s blade. But there was nothing there. The highlander continued to listen as he pulled his other blade slowly and silently from his belt. _The sounds in this place scatter like light off a diamond_, he thought. The source was not going to be easy to find. He crept slowly towards the back of the hall where he now saw a small alcove. He paused to listen and saw a small foot being pulled out of sight.

Years of stupidity kicked in and the highlander charged the alcove blindly. With his twin swords at the ready he slammed into the back wall with his shoulder and faced his enemy. What he saw gave him a start. He had expected a Lurikeen with a pointy stick ready to shove it in his knee, but instead he found a celt lying on the ground with its eyes clenched shut. And she was a woman, or at least would be someday for this celt was nearly a child. _Good God_, he thought, _are they so desperate for control of the land that they would send a girl not even twenty seasons old off to fight? _The girl opened her eyes and looked up at the highlander with the look of a wounded puppy. That was when he noticed she was holding her side and bleeding profusely.

Years of stupidity kicked in again as he sheathed both weapons and reached for the girl’s peculiar armor. The celtling pulled back uttering something in a language the highlander did not understand. He assumed it was a prayer to her pagan gods. He moved her hands and saw that her tunic had a clean cut across it. As did her side. 

The mercenary, who had been highly trained in inflicting such wounds, now wondered if he could do anything to aid the girl. He poked at the gash in the celt’s side with the all the care and grace of a spraggon at lunchtime causing the girl to suck in her breath and her eyes to well up with more tears. The mercenary began to regret ignoring the cries for help from his group’s healer. Not that a cleric would have done anything to help an invader. In fact he was more likely to take his mace and bludgeon her further towards death despite her obvious helplessness. In between short breaths the celtling began speaking to him in a frightened voice.

“I’m not _trying_ to hurt you; just trying to help” he replied angrily. She became fed up with his ham-fisted medical attention and smacked his hand away and continued to babble in her foreign tongue before the pain silenced her. The highlander was contemplated “aiding” her in the less traditional sense as well when realized that he was not doing much good. He checked his supplies for anything that may help dress the wound and found nothing but a pouch of dirt.

“Damn, the most expensive powder in Albion and feck-all it does for me here,” he said holding up the pouch and looking at the girl who returned his words with a blank – albeit teary – stare. The highlander’s was attention was suddenly drawn away from the celtling as the entire dungeon began to shake. The sound of a giant winch and clanging of tremendous gears rattled throughout the alcove for several minutes then abruptly stopped.

The mercenary furrowed his brow in a vain attempt to understand the situation, but the look of relief on the celtling’s face as she tried to peer around the corner left no doubt in his mind that the forces of Hibernia were about to flood the dungeon.

“Arse!” The mercenary stared down the hallway towards the Hibernian entrance with great trepidation then turned back to the girl in his care. Her smile was fading and the color was draining from her face as she collapsed on the stone. _Oh dear_, he thought. _She’s not going to last long, certainly not long enough for her comrades to find her all the way back here_. He thought for a moment.

Years of stupidity kicked in once again as the mercenary picked up the bleeding girl. He noted that Celt women certainly were a lot daintier than those he grew up with in Humberton. He carried the girl towards the first passage hoping to leave her in sight of any newcomers entering the dungeon. With any luck they would find her soon and heal her wounds, and he would be long gone before they had a chance to use his rear for a spear holder.

Much to the highlander’s discomfort, the girl put her arms around his neck as he carried her. His unease increased when she began mumbling deliriously into his neck. With great relief – and a little disappointment – the mercenary placed the girl at the foot of the steep steps. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with an expression he could not discern. He looked down at her sadly then looked up just in time to see an archer aiming for his head.

The highlander jerked to the side – the arrow barely missing him. He looked back to see the archer’s furry companion charging towards him. With both weapons in hand the mercenary parried the spear that was about to pierce his brain. _Well, Master Almund would be proud of that move_, he chuckled to himself.

The firbolg was slow but heavily armored; the highlander was not going to do much damage to this one regardless of a few lucky hits. The archer behind the big, fuzzy Hibernian was nocking another arrow as well. Just as the mercenary was about to sprint away the wounded celt girl let out a moan that caused the firbolg to turn around and look. Seeing his opportunity, the mercenary jammed both blades into his opponent’s tremendous rear followed by a sweep across his legs. The mercenary turned and ran as fast as his legs would move; the firbolg howled in pain behind him.

When he reached the next crossroads he saw a glowing portal to his right. _Can’t lead to anything worse_, he thought and dashed for the daemon arch. An arrow planted itself in his left shoulder but his run for the exit continued. _I hope those miserable sods stopped to heal the poor girl_, he thought as his world faded around him in a maelstrom of colors.


	2. Mercenaries and Blademasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 4th, 2019

Captain Rhodri looked up from his desk as the highlander entered flanked by two guards. He was a busy man with the weight of his title apparent on his grizzled features. His job of monitoring those who passed to and from Snowdonia, organizing reinforcements for the relic keep, as well as defending the border from the Arawnites kept him constantly on alert. He was a busy man without having to deal with the bureaucrats in Camelot and their..._people_, he thought.

The captain looked back down at his paper work and thought of his latest problem as he signed the last of the documents. The Guild of Shadows had always been useful to the forces of Camelot, but Rhodri never liked dealing with them. He felt that wars were won with open conflict; not with subversion. But when Camelot needed help he was willing to provide support, even if it meant dealing with the untrustworthy folk.

“Mercenary.” Rhodri began speaking to the entrant without looking at him as he leaned back in his chair. “How fairs the task I set before you with the isolationists?”

“It goes, Captain” replied the highlander with a hint of venom. Rhodri winced in anger at the use of his title. He composed himself and gave a false smile.

“Last week we gave you the task of finding the isolationist courier and bringing back some information. Have you brought me anything of use?”

“No. I haven’t brought you anything because I didn’t come here; your men brought _me_.”

“Exactly.” Rhodri smiled. “I had you brought here because I was curious as to why my desk is empty of the information I requested!” The captain’s rising voice was accented by his unexpected leap from the chair. The highlander did not flinch but watched as Rhodri’s anger subsided into controlled rage. “Perhaps I should give the job to Pipe, eh? She’s just about ready.” He smiled at his own joke. “Your mucking about in Darkness Falls instead of doing what was asked of you is not the only reason I called you here.” The highlander looked stoic. “My scouts have informed me that you saved the life of an invader during your little foray, mercenary.”

The highlander thought for a moment and chose his next word poorly. “And?”

Rhodri came around and sat on the front of his desk with his eyes firmly on the highlander, his smile betrayed both glee and joy. “I know you, mercenary. Remember when you used to be in my army? I do. I also remember why you left, or should I say ‘was asked to leave’ or perhaps to put it even more accurately ‘was forced to leave?’ Mmmmm?” The highlander’s eyes narrowed which lifted the hardened Rhodri’s heart even further. He continued, “You joined the Guild of Shadows after your little ‘incident’ and now you work for money, and somehow you still work for me.” The captain was on his feet and his face inches from that of the highlander’s.

“Look,” the highlander interrupted, “I’m a busy man. What is it you really want to say to me, Captain?” Rhodri relaxed and leaned back.

“Only this: Finish your job, take your reward that for some reason Camelot feels obligated to give you, and try not to force yourself further into my debt with your betrayal. You either work for the defense of Camelot when told, or face the executioner’s axe from which I saved you.” With this Rhodri turned around and sat back into his chair. “Get him out of my sight and don’t let him back in unless he has those papers with him,” he told the guards. The highlander turned to leave.

“I hope you cram then up yer arse, ya big, fecking eejit,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?!” Rhodri roared. The highlander smirked in response.

“I know me own way out,” the highlander spat at the guards with a wave.

“Mercenary,” the captain called as he left, “if you don’t address me as ‘My Lord’ the next time I see you I’ll see to it that Master Arenis finds out exactly why you joined his guild. You’re not in my army anymore and I prefer that you civilians address me as just what it is I am: your better.”

* * *

The celtling sat on a washed up log and peered sadly over the shores of Connla. For three days she had been lost in melancholy, thinking about the incident in the dungeon. No matter how hard she tried, she could not rid herself of the image of the highlander.

The breeze tossed her thin blond hair about her face as she sighed. _Why does his face haunt me_, she thought as she looked down at the scar on her side. It was still a little tender but the druid that saved her in Darkness Falls assured her the pain would subside in a few days. She touched her side and the slight discomfort reminded her of how the highlander had also touched the wound. He seemed so cruel at that moment but then he proceeded to saved her.

“Hadn’t he?” she murmured to herself. Surely she would have died had be not carried her to the entrance where she was found by her friends.

“Hadn’t he what?” The voice startled her. The celtling turned around to see Ilisa looking at her thoughtfully. “Hadn’t he what, child?” she repeated.

“I was just thinking about...what happened in the dungeon, Mistress,” the celtling replied as she turned away to hide the tears that were welling up slowly.

“Ah, yes. I heard about your little ‘adventure’.” Ilisa sat down on the log beside her student and comforted her with an arm around the shoulder.

“Yes,” she chuckled weakly and wiping the tears, “I suppose half of Shannon Estuary knows about it now: me being the only survivor and ‘saved at the last minute before the cruel highlander finished me off’.” The celtling looked up at Ilisa for the first time and the Blademistress’s voice took on a firm but gentle tone.

“Child, the Path of Harmony teaches us to recognize where Harmony is absent,” Ilisa began, “and an Initiate could tell that you are upset about something far worse than the incident everyone is circulating throughout the village. Come now. You’re sobbing like a lurikeen who has run out of ale.” The celtling gave a sobbing giggle at Ilisa’s joke. “Please. Tell me what happened that night. I want to know from the source. Harmony requires Truth, child.”

The celtling composed herself and turned to face her mistress. Ilisa was more than her teacher; she was the only family she had known for the last fifteen seasons. She focused for a moment on her discipline and began, “I don’t think the highlander was going to kill me.” Ilisa’s face betrayed her surprise. She had expected that her student’s depression had been caused by her violation at the hand of the enemy. The celtling’s statement gave her much concern.

“Why do you believe this?” she replied shortly.

“He, he never touched me. The wound I received was from one of the denizens of that awful dungeon. I had crawled into the shrine when I heard the fight between my companions and the invaders hoping to hide from them until it was safe, but everyone one was killed except for the highlander.” Ilisa’s face gave no hint of accusation or comfort, only the request for more information. “When he found me I closed my eyes waiting for him to finish me off but the blow never came. I opened my eyes and he just stared at me.” The celtling stuttered, “H-he even attempted to dress my wound, of that I am sure!”

The celtling sighed. “Everyone would tell me I was sick with delirium if I told them that he actually carried me from the shrine to the steps where I was found. I didn’t believe it myself at the time. Before my rescuers attacked him he seemed almost sad looking down at me.”

“Well...” began Ilisa not knowing exactly what she was going to say.

“Don’t you see?! Once he saw that I was hurt he not only let me live, but he helped me!”

Ilisa was taken aback. She knew the celtling was headstrong, but she had never suffered such outbursts from a student in all her years of teaching. Her stoic demeanor returned. “And you are torn apart by this because...” she trailed off knowing the answer.

“Because he’s the ‘enemy’. We’ve always been taught that all those from the other realms are our enemy. But this man has proved that to be wrong. Who knows about what else we’re wrong.” She hung her head expecting a reprimand from Ilisa.

“Congratulations, child.” Ilisa’s words were sad but held hope. “You have learned much in your teachings. Harmony cannot exist without Truth and you have learned one important aspect concerning that pillar of our beliefs: many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Once you realize that everyone has their own view of Truth, and you can see their view, you are further along the Path than most.”

“But...the people of Albion...they may see _us _as the aggressors?” The confused celtling looked up at her mistress’s lavender eyes. Ilisa nodded. The celtling stared at the waters for a moment then turned back to her teacher. “How did this war begin?”

Ilisa sighed. “Who can say? Each side accuses the other. It may have been started by all sides; perhaps the people’s imbalance with the land. Perhaps the gods simply demanded we fight.”

The celtling looked back towards the beach. She refused to believe that it was her people’s fate to fight forever. She looked over the land and saw a beauty that she did not wish to stop fighting for. Her confusion was compounded by the memory of the young highlander’s sad expression. _What was he thinking?_ she wondered. _Is he as confused and unsettled as I? _Her thoughts of the highlander were interrupted by her teacher’s voice. 

“Come. I think your inner knowledge has helped you advance enough to learn a new trick. Have you ever tried to wield three swords?” The blademistress grinned mischievously upon seeing the celtling’s confused look.

“Three? Wha-?” She furrowed her brow. Ilisa winked at her and led her to the training hut.


	3. Friends…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 8th, 2019

Determined to find the highlander who had saved her life, the celtling decided to once again journey to Darkness Falls. She made no mention of her journey to Ilisa for she would know immediately what the celtling’s intentions were. She especially did not want to tell her this time since it was her aim to seek out the highlander on his own turf.

“Are you brain dead?! We can’t let her join; she’ll never make it past the plate fiends!” The Firbolg Champion’s protests did little to dissuade the group. Nor did it phase the celtling. Standing nearly half the height of the firbolg glaring at her, the celtling stood proud in her new armor ready to tackle anything to achieve her goal. However finding a stalwart group at the entrance to the most notorious dungeon in the realm was easy; convincing every one of the members to let her join was another matter.

“Ah, don’t worry, Qinn. It’ll be a good experience for her. Besides, you can protect her.” The group’s druid chuckled at the eldritch’s words.

“Easy for you to say, magician; you’re not the one putting his life on the line. And what about you? Don’t you want me to protect you?”

“Quit complaining. You’ll probably only take a scratch, and don’t worry about me; I’ll be way behind you making _your_ job that much easier. Now c’mon. I’m leading this party and I say she’s in. You can take it or leave it.” The eldritch, Merrimack, smirked at the champion who had finally calmed down realizing that his only chance at getting an imp weapon was rapidly drying up.

“Very well,” Qinn growled as he turned to the druid standing next to Merrimack. “Don’t waste any spells on her unless you have to!”

“You do your job, arsehead, and I’ll do mine,” laughed the druid who danced around Qinn teasingly.

The celtling tried not to look intimidated as she departed with the group. She knew this would not be easy but she never realized just how recalcitrant a champion could be. She adjusted the stiff reinforced tunic stopping to admire the high quality of Lady Kasienka’s workmanship. Her entire set had even been graciously donated by the village crafter.

“Will someone get this walking carpet out of my way.” Ceilidh’s joke drew yet another glare from Qinn. As the group departed the celtling began to question her judgement.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to be going back to the dungeon after what Rhodri said?” questioned the friar. The highlander kept walking without responding; his dark chain mail clinking as he walked. With two swords at the ready and another on his back, the young highlander was an intimidating sight but he looked almost casual now with only minimal armor and kilt. He sat down on a grassy knoll and considered Ramelik for a moment before he spoke.

“I don’t think I have to worry about Rhodri for a while. He’s talks a big game, but he never follows through.” He smirked thinking about his former captain. 

Another member of their group, the cleric Isabella, had arrived. “Yes, well...he sounded pretty serious this time. Honestly, I can’t believe he let you live after he heard about what you did in there.” She motioned towards the crumbling tower that housed the entrance to the dungeon. “I’m having a little trouble believing it myself.”

“As am I,” Ramelik added. The highlander ignored them and began digging through his backpack for the rest of his armor. 

Isabella considered the highlander. She had known him for only a few summers but she knew enough of his past to worry about his future. Isabella was one of the few people who were aware of the details of the highlander’s past deeds. She doubted some of the newer members of their small guild of adventurers would have been so quick to join them if they knew what she knew. However the highlander had never done anything to risk the lives of his guild mates – at least not yet.

“She wasn’t going to hurt anyone; I saw no reason to kill her. It hardly would have been sporting of me to do so even if she wasn’t half dead.” he said looking up at Isabella. His eyes quickly darted from her accusing face. _I wish she wouldn’t look at me like that_, he thought. _ I’m nervous enough as it is_.

“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?” the cleric asked almost rhetorically. Something in her voice frightened the highlander. She sounded almost saddened by the revelation. He turned to her and sighed heavily.

“Whoa, let’s not get started on this again,” the friar’s chuckle garnered him two angry glares. Throwing up his hands in defeat, Ramelik settled down on the grass and uncorked a wineskin. The highlander took Isabella aside and spoke in a reassuring voice.

“Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, really.” He smiled at Isabella.

“It’s not just you I’m worried about,” she began sadly. “I’m afraid the group could be compromised if we see her again. I’m beginning to understand why you were thrown out of the Defenders and nearly executed. You can’t keep up this emotional battle. It’s either us or them!”

The highlander’s face turned grim and he held the cleric by her shoulders. “There is no honor in killing those who cannot defend themselves. Perhaps one day you will understand that.”

“She’s just going to come back stronger and next time,” she delivered her words slowly, “you may not be so lucky.” Isabella disengaged herself from his grasp and headed towards the broken tower. “We’d better hurry before it closes.” The highlander pulled his cloak over his head and followed once his companions had reached a short distance ahead of him.


	4. …and Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 13th, 2019

The Succubi were out in force that night. The celtling’s group was making short work of the lone daemonesses but as more adventurers flooded the arch-demon Legion’s realm, the prospect of both Albion and Midgard invaders was too great to ignore. Life could quickly become much more complicated for the small group.

“How’s this for an enlightening experience?” the eldritch asked her between spells.

“Uh, hard to say.” The celtling backed away as the ranger brought two more of the flying daemoness’s friends charging. “Anything is better than nothing, right?”

“So they tell me!” the eldritch yelled as he fired off a massive spelled that nearly knocked the group’s nightshade over.

“Ack! Watch your target, elf!” the lurikeen yelled angrily. His anger didn’t last long though as a Nightmare took a swipe at him. The tiny fighter ducked the blow easily slamming his rapier in its side at the same time.

Before them was a room filled with the flying denizens of Darkness Falls. The celtling wondered just how they were going to make it past so many. The champion noticed her quizzical look.

“To the left you’ll find Midgard; center is Albion. I wouldn’t go right if I didn’t have an army with me.” he told her as he bashed another Nightmare across the head as it headed for Ceilidh.

“Why not? What’s down there?” she yelled back trying to hear her own voice over the din.

“Certain death for little ones like you.” the champion said matter-of-factly.

_Hardly matters_, she thought. _I’m only interested in straight ahead_.

* * *

“Hey, look. I think I see people across the room,” Ramelik whispered to the group.

“Hibernians, and they’re out of range,” one of the archers growled. The highlander noticed them too and was busy sizing them up.

“Think we can sneak past the succubi and nail them?”

“Doubt it; they’ve probably seen us, and whoever draws the attention of those monsters first gets to fight two battles.”

“Very odd,” Isabella noted, “they’ve have a young one with them. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No one ever accused the Celts of being smart.” Ramelik said. The group hesitated for a moment and watched for an opening. More succubi began encircling the Hibernians and soon the room was clear.

“Now’s our chance! Go!” the second scout yelled. The highlander locked onto the minstrel and followed his companions into the room, but as they reached the center more succubi appeared out of nowhere.

“Dammit!” the highlander yelled as he dived in front of the friar taking a claw to the head. The celtling looked up upon hearing the curse and saw the new adversaries engaged in their own battle.

“Albs!” the champion announced, but the ranger was one step ahead of him. The eldritch aimed for the Briton woman wearing chain mail and wielding a shield and let fly a barrage of dark energy. The highlander charged on the elf but was cut off by another succubus. He parried its blow and sliced its wing before looking up to see an eight-foot firbolg swinging a tremendous two-handed hammer towards the highlander’s head. The mercenary narrowly evaded the blow as well as the succubi coming from behind which instead slammed head-on into the champion.

When the highlander picked himself off the floor and locked onto his next target, he froze. The celtling stood ten yards before him. Her eyes locked onto him and her mouth opened in disbelief. 

_It’s him! _the celtling thought.

“What are you doing?!” someone yelled out. The mercenary did not have time to answer as he saw another succubi swooping down on the celtling.

“Look out!” he yelled and pointed over her head. The celtling did not understand the words but the urgency of his voice caused her to drop and roll immediately. The highlander charged and placed two swords into the beast’s torso only to be confronted by another. He felt something on his back and glanced to see the celtling had steadied herself on him and was fending off yet another flying daemon woman.

Blow after blow was parried by the mercenary and he heard the clang of claw on steel behind him as well. _She’s not going to last much longer_, he thought. The highlander began looking for an opening in the cloud of wings. He sliced the succubi’s belly open and turned around to grab the celtling. She felt herself jerked to the side as a large claw slashed the air where her head had been. The highlander said something to her and pointed at a purple glow down the right corridor. She looked up at him, terrified. She did not know what he was doing but his arm around her waist urged her to move.

The pair sprinted for the portal with most of the succubi in tow, much to the utter disbelief of their companions.


	5. Love and Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 18th, 2019

The highlander and the celt landed with a thud on the dirt floor. It was still as dark as the dungeon but the cool air made it clear they were outside. The celtling tried to pull herself up and survey her surroundings but the highlander pushed her down quickly and threw his black cloak over her. She peered out from under the cowl and saw plated soldiers pacing the ramparts of a keep. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the raised marble platform of the Albion portal keep.

The highlander knew he had to get her out of there before the wizards saw her or she would be dead before she could scream. The highlander pulled the celtling up and rushed out of the keep doors as the guards eyed his cloaked companion suspiciously. It was not until they were well clear of the keep that he was able to take a good look at their surroundings. They were in Emain Macha, the northernmost territory of the Celt homeland. The familiar graveyard and the absence of snow told the highlander that much.

“Better get beyond the mile wall,” he said out loud while peering through the gloom of night. _At least there was no one else about_, he thought. _Here’s hoping the wall will be empty as well_. The celtling’s heart was pounding in her chest. She was too afraid to pull back the hood to look at the highlander. She was certain death was close and wondered why she had ever made this journey.

“Come on!” the highlander said as he tugged her arm, but the celtling stumbled and yelped. The highlander chided himself for his own impatience with the girl and knelt in front of her as she remained frozen on all fours. He pulled back the hood of his cloak she wore and saw her terror-stricken face. “Hey,” he whispered soothingly, “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.” He took off his mail glove, stroked her cheek and tucked an errant strand of blond hair behind her ear. She looked up at him which drew a smile from his face. She didn’t even realize it as he took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet all the while her eyes never leaving his. “Let’s go.”

The mile wall was empty much to their relief and they headed to an abandoned stone hut secluded in the nearby woods. Dawn was beginning to break by then and a bright shaft of light poured in through a hole in the top of the abandoned domicile. Few of these structures remained standing in the frontier lands since the wars started and the wild beasts had moved back, but the highlander knew that it would provide temporary shelter until night fell again and they could move about safely. 

_But move to where? I’ve really done it this time_, the mercenary thought to himself as he kept watch while the celtling rested up from her ordeal.

The celtling sat with her knees pulled to her chin on the highlander’s cloak which he had placed on the grass which now served as the hut’s floor. _He saved me again! _her mind reeled. She looked up at him as he pulled off his tunic and pulled his highland sash back in place over his tunic. The celtling’s heart skipped a beat and her breathing became short. _What’s happening to me? Why does he have this effect on me? _She stood up and approached the young man cautiously.

The highlander turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the young woman standing right in front of him. “H-hi...” he stammered.

“Why did you save my life?” she asked. The highlander furrowed his brow in a vain attempt to understand her strange language. He was about to attempt a reply but her hazel eyes stole all thoughts from his head.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t...” He tried to tell her something but all he could do was cradle her face in his hands. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm rubbing her cheek. Looking up she saw his terror-stricken face. Her hands found their way to his waist as she stood on her toes and kissed him.

The girl’s knees melted as he returned her kiss passionately. The highlander felt his hands sliding down her back to hold her waist as if they had plans of their own. Suddenly the clasps on the celtling’s tunic would not come undone fast enough for her liking. The highlander sat her down on his cloak while barely breaking the kiss and helped her frantic hands with her armor. The girl felt a tug on her leggings and lay back allowing her companion to slide them off. Then, suddenly, something black flew over her head and hit the wall behind her. She looked up and realized it was his chain leggings.

The celtling, lying prone on the ground in only her undergarments, looked up to see the older man standing before her in nothing but a plaid skirt. She giggled despite herself and the highlander fell to his knees abruptly causing her to shriek with laughter.

“I’ll teach you to laugh at a highlander, young lady!” He growled menacingly, grabbed her hands and wrestled her to the floor. The weight of his chest on hers caused her giggles to subsided, replaced with moans as he kissed her deeply. Wrapping her legs about his waist, she pulled him tightly thus producing a delightful sensation that made her shiver slightly. 

The highlander sat up kneeling between her legs and slowly ran a finger over her forehead and across her cheek before he made his way over a collarbone and between her breasts. She looked down to see his hand resting on her navel; his eyes had an uncertain look in them. She nodded and his hand began to move between her legs. She closed her eyes and felt her cloth braie disappear.

The celtling sat up to pull her shirt over her head as she surrendered her last piece of clothing – and herself – to her savior. Throwing her arms around his neck she pulled him back down on top of her and, with his kilt now gone, he entered her slowly. The celtling winced at the pain of her first penetration. She had never experienced such a pain or thrill in her life as she had at this moment. He kissed her forehead and asked if she was alright. The celtling’s eyes were clenched shut as she nodded in response to his question without a care as to its meaning. Opening her eyes she blew out the breath she had been holding in anticipation.

The highlander began to move within her with rising tempo and it did not take long for the celtling’s pent up energy to release as her body exploded. Grabbing his head she stifled her cries into his neck as her world slowly returned to normal. He slowed down and stopped before wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Don’t ever leave me!” she pleaded while holding him tightly until her need for a deep breath forced her to push him away. The young highlander rolled onto his back but the celtling quickly snuggled up beside him throwing her knee over his hips and cradling his head in her arms.

The celtling played with her new toy; the highlander felt her exploring and inspecting him as a mother would inspect a new-born child. _He’s so beautiful_, she marveled as her fingers danced over his nose and ran through his dark-brown hair. She played with the beads of sweat on his forehead and let out a high-pitched sigh. The highlander looked up at her. 

“Even upside down your smile warms my heart,” he said. Neither of them thought of their differences; only the passion they shared. He stroked her calf and told her, “The last time I saved one of your kind my reward was almost an axe to the neck. I prefer your reward by far.” 

She grinned at him and climbed on top of him slipping his manhood inside her once again. The mischievous look in her eyes gave the highlander a chuckled before his demeanor turned sad.

“I don’t even know your name,” he lamented to the tousled blonde girl who was already working on her next climax. She stopped and her face brightened in recognition of one word. The celtling placed a hand between her breasts and spoke.

“Keeley.” She paused then said the word again while watching his expression closely.

“Keeley,” he repeated with a smile. The highlander stopped stroking her hair for a moment, pointed to himself and said, “Eirik.”

“Eirik,” she whispered lovingly while caressing his face. The young girl placed both hands on his chest and began moving over him as her lover ran his hands over her shallow breasts pinching their dark red nipples. She let out a tiny yelp in response to his ministrations all the while never ceasing her determined rhythm.

The highlander began to feel the tension building in his loins and grabbed her hips. Her eyes closed, she smiled at feeling him drive her further towards her climax. His release deep inside her body was more than she could take and her second orgasm followed almost immediately. The celtling collapsed on him and the highlander held her tightly. He stroked her shoulder-length hair with one hand and caressed her back with the other.

“Tá grád agam duit, Eirik,” she whispered into his ear.

“I love you too,” he replied, certain of her meaning.


	6. Decisions and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 21st, 2019

Eirik stared out the window of Dakkon’s tower at the Albion milegate. _Home_, he thought to himself. The setting sun cast an orange hue across the gate revealing the otherwise utilitarian structure’s beauty. The highlander had never taken notice of the wall; it was for keeping the horde away from the keep that Albion had claimed in Emain Macha, or for keeping Albion at bay - he never could remember which. And now he could only see the monument of conflict as a magnificent portal back to the only home he had ever known. _I wonder if I’ll ever see it again._

Eirik’s consort, Keeley, stirred behind him. The young celt woman lay curled up on a bed a hay; her body wrapped in the highlander’s midnight-black cloak. Hearing her, the highlander turned to watch her and, for the moment, forgot his troubles. His eyes followed the curve of her hip beneath the cloak: a testament to her womanhood. His gaze continued to her face, which was framed by her blond hair and to a small pool of saliva by her lips: a testament to her sound sleep. Eirik chuckled. He wanted to stare at her forever but his thoughts kept turning back to the wall that lay to the East.

His movement had awoken Keeley and she finally struggled to drag herself from the fog but the highlander’s magically-warm cloak made sleep too desirable. The celtling moaned and her mind began to sort through her surroundings. Eventually she remembered where she was and what she had done. 

A smile curled her lips. 

Her eyes immediately found the highlander standing at the tower’s window. She wondered if what had happened that morning was just a dream. Unnoticed by her companion, her hand crept down between her legs to find the remnants of their lovemaking. Keeley sighed deeply and her smile broadened.

Keeley did not feel the need to get up as she observed her highland lover. His dark brown hair, which had accumulated a considerable shine, glistened in the sun’s dying rays. She watched him pull its shoulder-length back away from his face. A stubbly beard was beginning to cover his cheeks. The celtling felt her pulse quicken again however his expression gave her some concern. Groggily she pulled herself up. Clutching the cloak around her naked body, she went to see what was causing him so much apprehension. 

Eirik turned to his new love as she sidled up to him and looked out the window. Seeing only the milegate, she turned back to him with a look of concern. The highlander smiled at her but his eyes were wet.

“I can’t go back, can I?” His voice cracked and the first of the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He glanced away for a second then returned to her gaze. He regained control of his emotions for a moment but his eyes seemed to plead to her. Keeley was frightened; she could not understand why her lover – her mhuirnín – was so upset. Eirik’s hands trembled as he caressed her neck. Keeley held him tightly burying her head in his furry chest. Still fighting back the sobs, the highlander stroked the girl’s hair. Her next words sounded like a question but the highlander could not understand her exactly.

“I have nowhere to go,” he whispered as tilted her head up and kissed her on the forehead. Keeley strained to understand him. Eirik sighed knowing she could not possibly know what he was saying. Suddenly Keeley became very frightened. 

_No! _she thought, _he cannot leave!_ Keeley’s pleas turned into sobs as she babbled in her foreign tongue faster than the highlander had ever heard the language spoken. Eirik was thoroughly confused by her outburst. 

_She doesn’t understand_, he realized.

Eirik did his best to calm her down then pulled out a bronze medallion with a goblet engraved on it. Keeley recognized it as the symbol of Albion. The highlander tossed it out the window then looked back to his love with sad eyes. Now it was Keeley’s turn to furrow her brow. “N-ní thuigim,” she said as she wiped her eyes. She looked out the window again. _The Albion barrier_, she realized. _He’s trapped here_. _He can’t go home._ Keeley began to understand the full magnitude of her lover’s – and her own – predicament. _He sacrificed it all. For me._

The two embraced and Keeley could feel the highlander beginning to cry. Eirik’s mind was in fear’s full grip now. He wondered if he would ever see his friends again, and how he would survive. And most importantly: how would his decision affect the young woman he had saved.

“Eirik.” Keeley tried to hush her lover’s tears but she was fighting her own as well. Looking into his eyes and trying to smile, the celtling tried to communicate the only solution she could think of, or would accept. “Come with me.” The highlander returned her Celtic words with his usual confused look. Keeley pointed south. 

The highlander did not understand at first, but his grief waned as he realized her proposal. “We can try. Oh, Eirik, an dtuigeann tú?” She began to cry again. “I want you with me,” she whispered. The highlander clutched her and looked behind him. Through the tower door he could see the Hibernian frontier stretching as far as the eye could see.

“Hibernia,” he said to himself. Keeley gasped and smiled at him. _It could work, I suppose,_ he thought. Eirik turned back to the woman in his arms. Keeley’s eyes were wet with tears but her smiled betrayed her joy. The highlander began to remember just why he had chosen his path, and that home was not always defined by a country.

Eirik took a deep breath and held his love tightly. “It _will _work.”

****

“Have you ever stood and stared at it, Cresil? Marveled at its beauty?” Lord J’nar stood in front of the window in tallest tower overlooking the city. A dark-skinned saracen man walked up beside J’nar and looked out the window. Camelot was indeed a sight to behold. The city sported high towers and cobbled roads of stone. Markets shaded by tents offered every possible item and delight a citizen could want, and secret rooms behind local inns offered what most never could imagine.

“Did you realize, Cresil that long before our ‘dearly departed king’ built this city all there was here was ice and snow as far as the eye could see?” J’nar smirked to himself still staring out the window.

_Ice? _the Saracen Infiltrator puzzled. “But, m’lord, I thought...”

“Yes,” J’nar interrupted, his voice barely a whisper, “ice.” The ancient and grizzled cabalist – the head of the Guild of Shadows – seemed lost in reminiscences. His black eyes starred off into the distance beyond the city that Arthur built. “Well before your time, I suppose,” he whispered under his breath, still grinning.

“What news did you say you had for me?” J’nar continued before his lieutenant could say anything. The cabalist turned his back on the infiltrator and walked back to his chair.

Cresil followed his master and waited for him to settle into his seat. He had been serving J’nar for a year now – plucked from the field after many years of service to the guild – and had come to respect and fear the Shadow Guild’s leader. Not only did J’nar helm the most powerful guild in Albion, which afforded him a seat on the council, but his power as a cabalist was rumored to be greater than any mage in Albion – or perhaps in all the realms. It was an honor to serve as J’nar’s second-in-command, and Cresil had been willing to do anything to further his master’s cause.

“Aye, m’lord. I thought this may be of interest to you.” Cresil stood up straight; always confident, always respectful to his lord. “A hunting party from Darkness Falls returned...well, actually only one of them returned, their cleric, and...”

“And just why did you think I would care about this, Cresil?”

“Well, m’lord, she says one of their members abandoned them in the middle of a fight with some invaders from Hibernia...”

J’nar became impatient. “That is nothing unusual, Cresil. People do this all the time. Honestly, my friend, when was the last time you fought _alongside_ others?” The cabalist was not a patient man and people wasting his time were a particular annoyance.

Cresil never faltered or showed his fear. He made certain that every time he requested an audience with J’nar that he had something important to say. “Yes, m’lord. But she said he left them to help one of the invaders. He even fled with her, a Celt woman.” J’nar leaned forward, becoming more interested at this point. “And she said it was the mercenary, Eirik,” the infiltrator paused a moment before finishing, “Rhodri’s man.” 

J’nar scowled. The name was a curse. More than once Rhodri had made life difficult for J’nar and the Guild of Shadows. Even as a member of the council, J’nar had to acquiesce to Rhodri’s sway on the other council members many times. Rhodri was a soldier who commanded much of the forces used to guard the frontiers, but he hated the Guild of Shadows – J’nar even more so.

“Where are they now?” J’nar demanded calmly, his black eyes narrowing at his assistant.

“My spies saw them fleeing into Emain Macha where they lost sight of them. I can only assume...”

“I don’t want assumption, Cresil. I want to know exactly where they are.” The Avalonian mage punctuated his last words by sitting up and bringing himself to full height in front of his spy.

“Yes, m’lord.” Cresil paused.

“NOW!” yelled J’nar. Without moving a muscle, Cresil vanished from before his master in the blink of an eye. When J’nar was sure he was gone he sat back down and began to contemplate the new events.


	7. Freedom and Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 21st, 2019

When darkness fell, the highlander and the celt suited up for their long trek. Keeley had begun to lace up her tunic when, for the first time, the highlander noticed the scar above her right hip. Eirik walked over to her and lightly stroked the skin around the fresh, pink scar. Eirik thought about the first time they had “met” and the wound she had suffered at the hands of the daemons in Darkness Falls. Keeley smiled at his touch and continued struggling with her tunic. When she finally looked up at the highlander and saw his object of interest the celtling grinned.

“It’s alright. You can touch it,” she said as she grabbed his hand and held it firmly against her scar. Eirik looked up at her; he could not help but chuckle at Keeley’s mischievous grin. Once the two finished dressing and arming themselves, Eirik checked the area around the tower for enemies. With the hill clear he motioned Keeley forward giving her a playful pat on the rear out the door. The celtling shot him an angry look but the highlander merely responded with a wink.

Sticking close to the mountains and traveling under the cloak of night, the two lovers carefully made their way across the Hibernian frontier. For two days they traversed the countryside, stopping each dawn to seek rest, refuge, and the occasional _fun_. It was not until the gates of Druim Cain were almost in sight that Keeley realized something very important.

“Feck!” she exclaimed a little too loudly.

“What?” Eirik drew his swords and looked around frantically. Seeing nothing he turned to Keeley who was looking at him and holding her forehead. She began speaking to him and fiddling with his clothes. “What? What’s wrong?” Keeley frowned at the highlander and gripped his plaid sash. “Ah.” Eirik now joined in on the frowning. “I suppose I can’t get past the guards looking like I just walked over from Humberton.” The highlander removed his sash and, rather reluctantly, his kilt then turned to Keeley who was still frowning. “Now what?” the highlander exclaimed.

Keeley thought for a moment then attempted the words. “Ch-chain. No chain!”

“Oh aye…” Eirik had never thought about it before but he realized he had never seen a Hibernian wearing chain armor before. He looked around. _Only another hour or so before dawn_, he thought. _Not much time._ A shuffle drew his attention and he noticed Keeley rifling through her pack. After a minute of searching she pulled out some worn armor and gave it to the highlander. Eirik eyed the items suspiciously; they were leather but with some peculiar strips of metal woven in for reinforcement. It would not afford much protection if the guards got wise to them, but he sensed a more immediate concern.

“Well, this may work, Keeley, but if this is yours,” he paused looking down at the celtling who stood nearly a head shorter than the highlander, “how’s it going to fit me?” Keeley ignored his protests and ushered him into the trees to change. To Eirik’s amazement the armor fit. The celtling gave her companion’s attire a once-over and with an approving look they continued on their way.

As they approached the gates, Keeley’s heart pounded in her chest. _Oh please let this work,_ she thought to herself. Eirik seemed calm but inwardly he was waiting for the barrage of arrows that normally welcomes those who tread too closely to an enemy’s frontier keep. The celtling pulled the highlander’s hood more securely around his head and prayed.

The sentinels outside the keep took little notice and once the pair entered the central courtyard Keeley sighed with relief. Druim Cain was remote and oft ignored by adventurers of Hibernia who favored the much more accessible keep near the capitol. Today there was only an elf and two lurikeens besides the guards and Keeley did not recognize any of them. Getting Eirik to Shannon Estuary would be easy at this point since the homeland sentinels were not looking for invaders. However the problem of what to do with him once they reached the village of Connla had yet to be solved but Keeley put it out of her mind.

The celtling grabbed the highlander’s hand and snuggled up to him as they left the fortress, a huge smile on her face. Eirik hugged her back and wondered what she had planned for him now. Could they find a home together in her land? Would he be accepted? Maybe she was taking him to her land to be sacrificed to their pagan gods!

Eirik began to panic. Keeley did not see his concern but simply sighed with joy and held him close as they made their way south.

*****

The Valley of Bri Leith was a welcome sight for Keeley but Eirik found it to be the most bizarre place he had ever seen. He had never seen many of the strange beasts of Keeley’s native land – due to his preference for the daemon-filled Darkness Falls over raiding other lands – and Keeley often had to urge him forward.

Skirting around the village of Caille, they made their way to the eastern shore of a tremendous lake. Keeley knew that there would be no patrols on this shoreline and she decided it would be best to follow it all the way to Shannon Estuary. For the most part their journey was uneventful, however a few Sheevra gave the highlander suspicious looks while ignoring the young celt woman altogether. 

A brilliant orange sun hung just above the waters of Shannon Estuary when the young lovers reached the bridge to what Eirik guessed was their final destination. The celtling held her breath again as they crossed. An elderly fisherman greeted her but she hurried past with just an abrupt greeting hoping he did not want her to stop for a chat. 

Keeley stopped on the outskirts of Connla. Pensively she turned to the highlander and wondered how to explain her companion to the village. “What are we doing now?” he whispered. Keeley hushed him and looked around uneasily. Finally she took Eirik’s head in her hands and reached up to kiss him deeply.

The highlander looked worried upon the kiss’s release and Keeley tried to urge him to remain. He watched her scamper off into the village and disappear into one of the huts. The highlander looked around nervously. A rather large rat with a fresh bone of unknown origin in its jaws wandered past.

“Great. Wonderful,” he cursed under his breath. “Terrific place she left me in.” The highlander wondered if the rest of her village was as _delightful_. However Eirik’s thoughts were interrupted by the approach of two guards. He peered out from under his cowl trying to assess them as he moved off the path. There was still some light out and he knew his disguise would not hold if they decided to investigate. Which they did.

“C’ainm atá ort?” the female sentinel called out to him. Eirik froze in his tracks but did not turn around. Silently, beneath his cloak, he released the clasps on his scabbards. The highlander cursed when he noticed he was still wearing the light armor Keeley had given him. Perhaps if he ignored the guards they would leave him be. 

“Cá as tú?” the woman insisted a little more sternly. When she did not receive an answer she approached the cloaked figure and repeated her question. Eirik tried to walk away but before he could take another step the sentinel reached over and flung his hood back. The woman recoiled but her shock wore off quickly and her right hand shot to her blade in the blink of an eye. 

“Norse!” her alarm cry went out.

Eirik unsheathed his left-hand sword to block the sentinel’s first blow and returned it with a handful of dirt originating from the gold-stitched pouch on his belt. The woman screamed in pain and clutched her eyes which burned under the effect of the Dartmoor clay. The sentinel’s guardian companion had just reached the highlander’s position when Eirik pulled out his other sword.

“Keeley?! A little help?!” the highlander yelled towards the village. He began working his blades furiously in an attempt to ward off the guardian’s blows. Looking past his adversary he saw the inhabitants of the village pouring out of the huts in response to the alarm. Most stood and stared but a few began charging at the highlander. One of them, a sandy-haired celt, began nocking an arrow. Eirik tried to position the guardian in order to keep him between the ranger and himself.

Keeley had also heard the alarm. When she burst out of the hut and saw the commotion, she rushed towards her lover who fought off the mob frantically. An older woman followed close behind with a pair of vicious-looking crescent swords at the ready.

Eirik evaded another of the guardian’s blows and returned it with a slash across his right arm causing him to recoil in pain. The guardian was bleeding but the highlander was breathless with exhaustion from fighting the superior warrior. Just as the dusty sentinel was about to rejoin her partner, Keeley pushed through the gathering crowd and positioned herself between the combatants. The sandy-haired ranger jerked away at the last moment causing his arrow to miss the girl by a few inches.

Stunned by her actions, the guardian backed off to avoid harming the young blademistress who had interfered but the fumbling sentinel beside them took a swipe at the invader nearly hitting Keeley in the process. The celtling’s right blade shot out to deflect the sentinel’s attack and, with a quick twist, knocked the guard’s sword from her hand.

With her twin blades poised menacingly and her back pressed firmly up against her lover’s chest, Keeley slowly backed the two of them away from the mob amidst a cacophony of Gaelic that assaulted Eirik’s ears. His protector began shouting back at them until the tall, older blademistress that had followed her approached and spoke calmly to Keeley. The highlander had no idea what the two of them were saying, but Keeley’s words soon became tearful. Eirik now feared for her safety and saw only one way out of their situation.

Eirik held his swords out beside him and dropped them. Startled, Keeley turned around to find the highlander holding his empty hands above his head in surrender. The crowd quieted in response to the invader’s actions. Not knowing what to make of the situation, the guardian simply waited for the sentinel’s orders.

“Ní thuigim!” Keeley cried as she tried to hold her love. Eirik held her back not wanting her to get in the way if the ranger decided to shoot at him again.

“It’s the only way, Keeley. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.” The highlander tried to believe his own words. Keeping his arms outstretched he backed away from the girl who stood before him. All Keeley could do was stare, her face a mixture of anguish and disbelief.

Eirik turned around to face the sentinel who glared at him angrily and slammed the edge of her shield into his stomach. The highlander doubled over and fell to the ground. Keeley tried to help but the guardian held her back. The sentinel was about to kick the highlander in the face as he lay on the ground when someone stopped her. Eirik looked up to see the seasoned blademistress who had spoken to Keeley now giving the sentinel a stern look. 

Terrified, Keeley watched as her lover was bound and lead away to await his fate.


	8. Questions…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Published September 25th, 2019

Keeley sat upon a washed-up log on Connla’s sandy shore and stared at the makeshift prison hut. The flames of the evening bonfire cast an orange glow on the celtling’s tear streaked cheeks. One of the men guarding the hut shifted uneasily under the celt girl’s watchful eye until his superior barked sharply at him. However Keeley was not looking at the hut; her gaze focused well beyond the drab structure and its wardens deep into the forest beyond in sad reverie. Outside another building a young man kept watch over the celtling. A frustrated sigh erupted behind the sandy-haired celt and he turned to greet its source.

“She’s still there?” Ilisa asked rhetorically.

“Aye,” Liam replied. The ranger propped himself up on the steps of the village’s only stone structure and fiddled with his bow. Ilisa turned from her student to the ranger.

“Has she said anything?”

“No,” he replied almost indignantly. “She won’t speak to me! Honestly, Ilisa, what has gotten into her?” The blademistress hushed the ranger with a wave of hand. Even though he was several seasons older than Keeley, Liam had been her closest friend while they were growing up. Often referring to each other as ‘brother’ and ‘sister,’ the two of them were nearly inseparable for many years and Keeley’s behavior had begun to worry the ranger.

Ilisa sighed. “I’d better try to talk to her again.”

Keeley did not acknowledge her teacher’s presence as she approached. Ilisa stood beside the log for a moment contemplating the young women who kept her gaze towards the prison that held the invader, her knees clutched firmly to her chin. The veteran blademistress did not miss the moisture under the girl’s eyes.

“It’s been over a week now.” Keeley’s words startled Ilisa. “I would like to see him – make sure he’s still even alive.” The girl’s words were emotionless and almost mechanical; her gaze never shifting from the hut. Ilisa sighed again and stroked the girl’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Keeley, but the council hasn’t decided what to do with him yet.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Keeley nearly yelled, finally turning to her teacher. “You’re on the council, after all!” The older woman was taken aback by the girl’s outburst but realized her emotional state was the cause of her disrespect.

“I’m very sorry, child. I know this is hard for you.” Ilisa paused for a moment and sat down next to the celtling. “Actually, Keeley I must be honest with you. I have no idea how you are feeling.” Ilisa looked down at the ground. “This is not the sort of thing that happens every day, you know. Neither myself nor the council fully understands why you brought him here.”

“I already told you, mistress,” the girl sniffled, “he saved me...twice. And because of me he is an exile; a man with no home.” She buried her face in her knees and began sobbing. “Because of _me_!” Putting an arm around her shoulder, Ilisa tried to console the girl.

“I know,” she said softly. “So you have told me.” Ilisa eyed her student cautiously and was about to speak before deciding against pursuing the subject any deeper. Keeley leaned against her but continued to stare at the prison hut which had held her attention for so long. The elder blademistress held her pupil until the tears ran dry, then gently brought her to her feet.

“Keeley, we need to talk.” Ilisa looked the girl in the eye. “Lady Eileen wishes to hear the story from you personally.” Keeley’s eyes widened. “Aye. You know this is important, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“This is your chance to help him.” Ilisa’s stern visage faded as quickly as it had appeared when she saw how frightened the celtling had become. “Don’t worry, child. A little advice, though: be honest with her.” Keeley tried to compose herself with little success.

“When does she want to see me?”

“Now.” Ilisa replied. Keeley nodded soberly and Ilisa led her away.

*****

The celtling entered Lady Eileen’s private hut to find the elderly druid fussing over a potted plant. The doors closed behind the girl with a light thud but the council elder did not turn from her activities to acknowledge her. Keeley fidgeted and looked about at the interior of the hut while she waited.

Lady Eileen had a habit of collecting items of all sort and it showed in her home’s decor. The hut was not spartan, in fact it was the furthest thing from it. Totems – some familiar to the young blademistress and others most exotic – littered the floor. Most had been pushed aside to make a path through the cluttered hut. A large collection of somewhat lewd tribal objects were piled together against the far wall.

The druid’s desk was another epic of disorder. Where there was not a pile of scrolls there would be found a pile rocks. Some of the rocks were being used to hold open several scroll, but all Keeley could see on them were scribbles that had been crossed out.

The celtling’s eyes were drawn to the fire beside where Lady Eileen stood. In front of the hearth lay two carefully-placed cushions. Above the hearth on the mantel lay a sleeping kitten.

“Ah! Better.” The old woman’s words startled the girl. When she finally turned around, Keeley was greeted with a warm smile. “What do you think, my dear? Homey, is it not?” she said with a grand motion of her arms. Keeley could not find any words in her throat. “Oh, dear. Where are my manners? Please, child. Come sit.” Lady Eileen gestured to the cushions before the fire.

“Th-thank you, my lady.” The celtling sat, afraid to look the council elder in the eye. She was joined by her hostess who had mysteriously acquired two cups of steaming liquid. Keeley took the one she was offered and held it up to her nose. Its earthy aroma filled her nostrils and the girl began to relax under its influence. After a few sips the old woman broke the calculated silence.

“So, Keeley, I understand you’ve had quite an adventure.” Keeley looked up from her cup. Lady Eileen peered over her own cup, her bright, blue eyes had a mischievous twinkle in them. “Won’t you tell me about it?” the elder asked with a wry smile.

“I-I don’t know where to begin, my lady.” Nervous, the girl looked at the old woman. Lady Eileen had been the village’s figurehead for as long as Keeley could remember. Even though her wrinkled features spoke of a long career in the defense of Hibernia, the druid’s bright eyes betrayed a youthful exuberance that Keeley had never seen in one so old.

“Well, you could start at the beginning, my dear.”

“I thought everyone knew about that. How much do you know?”

“Pretend I know nothing, dear,” she replied as she set down her cup and propped her elbows up on her knees giving Keeley her full attention. The celtling began relating the story of how she went exploring the most dangerous dungeon in the realms alone against the advice of her teacher, her unfortunate encounter with a naburite drinker, and how the highlander found her near death by the imps. When she had finished the first part of her story, Keeley’s hostess was grinning broadly at her.

“So you went back there to look for him,” Eileen stated rather than asked.

“A-aye, yes.”

“And what happened?”

“I found him,” Keeley fidgeted, “but things didn’t work out as planned – not that I actually had a plan,” Keeley added under her breath. “He and his companions became engaged with the same monsters we were fighting when they approached us.”

“You mean ‘attacked you’?” the elder asked. Keeley was silent for a moment then stared at the floor and nodded.

“But _he_ didn’t attack us! He actually came to my aid. If he hadn’t I would surely be dead. We escaped through a magic portal but I ended up in one of Albion’s castles along with him. I think he saved me again from his own guards this time.” Keeley shivered despite the warm fire. The realization of how many times she had come so close to death had only just begun to dawn on her. She wondered if she would have been better as a craftsman’s apprentice; spending all her time in Tir na Nog where it was safe. Lady Eileen noticed her discomfort and handed her cup back to her.

“So you and your new friend escaped into our frontier and then what?” The druid’s expression was no longer as jovial as it was when they had started. “I don’t imagine the two of you discussed sewing.” Keeley blushed heavily.

“We…” she paused, “we ‘joined’.”

“I see. Willingly?” Keeley nodded. Lady Eileen gave the celtling a moment to relax and waited for her to take another sip. “How was it?” The girl coughed and sputtered from nearly inhaling her entire drink. The druid produced a piece of cloth for the celtling and patted her on the back. “That good, aye?” Keeley looked up to see her hostess trying to hold back a fit of laughter. “I am sorry, my dear,” she laughed. “You just seemed so tense. Had I known you would forget how to drink, I would not have done that.” When Keeley’s coughing subsided, the druid continued. “So why bring him here, Keeley?”

The celtling looked dumbstruck for a moment. “Eirik had nowhere to go. H-he had forsaken his own people by helping me; he couldn’t go back to Albion, not that I would have let him try. I know he could live here; it wouldn’t be the first time. What about Kaylee and her family who came to live...” Keeley cut her words short and the druid looked at her sternly.

“That tale does not have a happy ending, child.” 

The celtling nodded solemnly. “I know it will work this time. I just know it.”

“I understand dear. That’s enough for now.” Lady Eileen hushed her then thought silently. Keeley wondered what was going to happen next. For what seemed like an eternity the council elder sat and stared off into the distance. “Several things still puzzle me, Keeley.” The celtling nearly jumped. “One thing: why you refer to your companion as ‘Highlander’.” Keeley furrowed her brow.

“What?”

“Oh, I realize that a kilt was found in his belongings when he was captured, you said yourself he was seen with other Albions, and for all we know he speaks only the Albion language,” the druid continued, “but you strip all that away and the fellow is most assuredly Norse in heritage. After all, dear, ‘Eirik’ is a Norse name.” 

“I don’t understand...”

“I’m sorry.” Lady Eileen stood up. “I think there is more to your friend than you know. You must realize that things in Albion are much different than they are here. Just because he carries two weapons does not mean he follows the same teachings as guardians who choose the Path of Harmony.” The celtling’s questioning look gave the druid reason to continue. “I can only assume he is a member of the Guild of Shadows, Keeley.”

“No. No, no. That’s not possible.” The girl stood up but her legs were beginning to wobble. “He’s no assassin! I won’t believe it!”

“Steady, child,” Eileen chided. Keeley tried to back up and nearly fell over a pile of books but Lady Eileen caught her with uncanny reflexes. The celtling sat on the floor stunned by the new revelation. “I’m sorry, dear, but there is too much in doubt about your friend. His fate will have to be decided by the village. Tomorrow we will hold a discussion.” Keeley looked up at the old woman, her eyes filling with tears.

“My lady, I must see him. I beg you. Please let me see Eirik.” Lady Eileen studied the young blademistress for a moment then nodded.

*****

Keeley raced towards the prison hut. The guards immediately barred her entrance but Liam, who was catching up to his young friend, waved them off.

“It’s alright. We have the council’s permission,” he said showing them their authorization. The senior guard studied the insignia Liam handed him for a moment then motioned to his subordinate to open the door. Keeley was ill-prepared for what she saw.

The dingy hut was bisected by a set of iron bars which included a small door. Eirik was lying curled up on the dirt floor on the other side of the bars wearing only tattered rags. An awful smell assaulted the celtling’s nostrils.

“Eirik!” she cried, grabbing the bars. The highlander leapt to his feet upon hearing his name. Seeing Keeley lifted his heart tremendously. He had begun to wonder if she had been imprisoned as well, or worse, executed for treason. The two embraced through the bars and the celtling began to cry with a mixture of joy and heartache. Eirik looked at his love. Apart from red, puffy eyes she seemed alright so he assumed she had faired the better for their ordeal.

“Oh, Keeley I’m so glad you’re alright.” Eirik kissed the weeping girl soundly on the forehead. She responded in her own tongue and the highlander hushed her. “It’s alright, Keeley. I’m so sorry to have put you through this,” he soothed. It was then he noticed the same ranger who had taken a shot at him standing beside the door. Liam stared back stoically. Eirik turned his attention back to his love. The celtling pressed herself against the bars in an effort to get as close to him as possible. “I pray this isn’t our last time together but if it is I wish I could tell you that I would not trade this moment for anything.”

After several minutes of watching his friend cry in the arms of the barbarian, Liam approached the two lovers. “I think we had better go, Keeley. You have a big day tomorrow and it would be best if you got some sleep beforehand.” The celtling reluctantly disengaged from Eirik giving him one last kiss.

“Oíche mhaith, rún mo chroí,” she whispered in his ear before following Liam out the door. The highlander watched her leave and then it became his turn to cry.

*****

Lady Eileen scratched Critter’s ears eliciting a delighted purr. The white kitten had been given to her by a group of adventurers who had found him while on a mission to the Pennine Mountains. The elderly woman never did ask exactly how they came across the furry little creature; she felt discretion in the matter would be wise.

She sat in her chair letting Critter curl up in her lap and it was not long before the kitten was fast asleep. She contemplated the kitten’s blissful life when a knock at her door interrupted her thoughts.

“Enter.” The druid did not look up from her pet to greet her guest. “What did you learn?” she asked.

“Not much I’m afraid. But it’s obvious he returns her affections,” Liam answered. The woman looked the ranger straight in the eyes and considered his answer.

“Close the door and tell me as much as you can then.”


	9. … and Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published September 27, 2019

Dawn broke and, through the small crack in his prison, the highlander watched the sunrise for what he feared would be the last time. Eirik was sure that his meeting with Keeley the night before was a gift before his execution, and the unusually grand meal he had just been brought served only to reinforced this conclusion. His daily meal usually consisted of moldy bread and turbid water, however this morning he had been given fresh bread, clean water, and – to his utter amazement – a slice of the richest cheese he had ever tasted.

The firbolg that brought him his meal left without making eye contact with the highlander. Eirik finished his meal and sat back against the hut’s walls. _Die here, or die at home_, he thought. The sun shone though the crack and projected a long shaft of light across the dirt floor. The highlander heaved a sigh and tried in vain to relax. The sliver of light now crossed his lap and he held out his hand in an attempt to catch the sun one last time. _I wonder how long I have. Oh, Keeley, I’m so sorry._ “I’m sorry I came so far only to fail,” he whispered to himself.

Time drew out like a knife for Eirik and when the sun hit its apex his thoughts were interrupted by two guards at his hut. The highlander recognized them as the man and woman he had fought when he first arrived in the village. The woman barked something at him. Not knowing exactly what to do Eirik stood up; the chains binding his ankles and wrists clanged noisily. The sentinel’s companion unlocked his cell and motioned for him to come out.

_This is it_, he though solemnly. Eirik got out of the cell and stood before them. Sentinel Glynis barked something else at him and the highlander stood there confused. She repeated herself this time motioning for him to turn around. Eirik was still confused but complied. _What’s going_…

His thoughts were cut short when he felt ice-cold water hit his naked back. He let out a yelp but was ordered to turn around again. This time he was greeted with another bucket of cold water in the face. The guardian put down the now empty second bucket and handed Eirik a rag with which to dry and – as much as possible – clean himself.

The highlander looked up after drying his face. He could not read the guardian’s expression but the young woman glared at him. Her eyes were still red from the highlanders dirty fighting and only made her look angrier. 

Eirik managed a weak smile. “Sorry about that.” Glynis flung a semi-clean tunic at him in response. Once he had managed to don the garment, Eirik was led out of his hut.

Once outside the highlander noticed that the entire village seemed empty save for two guards outside the village’s central hut. It was many times larger than the rest of the structures and Eirik thought that it could probably hold the entire village. He was not altogether wrong and the highlander’s escorts led him there to find out first-hand.

When the doors were opened everyone in the hut turned to stare at the highlander. Eirik began to wonder if this was going to be a public execution, and indoors at that. As he was led down the aisle between two sets of packed benches, Eirik tried to find Keeley in the crowd but Glynis pushed him forward. The highlander found himself standing before two elderly men flanking an equally elderly woman. The three were dressed in majestic attire and were sitting behind a high table which forced Eirik to look up at them. Standing next to the table was the same Celt Ranger that accompanied Keeley when she visited Eirik the night before.

Sentinel Glynis spoke to Eirik and pointed to the ground before the table. When the highlander stepped up to the spot, Glynis and the guardian disappeared into the crowd. Eirik turned back to the trio before him. The woman motioned to one of the guards nearby and spoke. The guard removed the highlander’s shackles. Once again the Eirik furrowed his brow.

_This is becoming intolerably confusing_, he thought. When the highlander thought that his situation could not get any odder, the sandy-haired celt stepped up and began speaking to him in nearly perfect Welsh. 

“Albian, this hearing is for the purpose of deciding your fate. I will act as translator for you and the council. Before you are councilman Nevan, council elder Eileen, and council elder Eachann. When you answer their questions you will address them and not me. Answer truthfully. Do you understand?”

Astonished, Eirik stared at the celt for a moment before he found his voice. “A-aye, yes. I understand.” It had been a long time since he had to speak Welsh and he hoped that he had enough phlegm in his throat to get through the evening.

“Very well.” Liam nodded to the council members. The one that Eirik remembered as councilman Nevan spoke and the ranger translated.

“First off, young man, tell us you name.”

“My name is Eirik, sir.” the young fighter stammered not sure how to address the old man.

“And your family name?”

Eirik paused. “Westlake.” 

“Westlake?” Nevan queried, furrowing his brow in disbelief. “That is a Briton name, is it not?”

Eirik frowned. “Aye, it is.”

“You will have to excuse us, Eirik,” Lady Eileen chimed in. “You have us at a disadvantage. You have a Briton surname, you were found with highland clothing, however I can tell that you are obviously neither. It would be best if you were to clear up this confusion.” Eirik shifted uneasily.

“Answer the councilwoman,” Liam ordered evenly. Eirik straightened up and gazed at the elderly woman; his expression marked with a slight sadness.

“My father was from the Cotswolds, however...” Eirik paused for a moment, “my mother was Norse.” When Liam finished translating a murmur ran through the hut. Eileen held up her right hand to silence the crowd. “I guess it’s easier to tell from outside Albion than from within. My heritage, that is.” Eirik smiled weakly. “However I gather that your wisdom also gave you considerable insight.”

“Ah, my friend, this is interesting indeed! I imagine there is a fascinating story behind this. Would you enlighten us, please?” Her two associates were about to protest, but Eileen held them back.

“I-I’m not sure what there is to tell.” Eirik began to get flustered. “My mother was a healer who gave up her gift from Eir after she saved…um, met my father. My father decided the best place for them to live would be in the highland village of Humberton. He knew they would be more _receptive_ to my mother and failing that, she could blend in better. It was there that I was born. As you can see I took after my mother and her Norse heritage so it was only fitting that I be raised as a Highlander: a heritage I more-or-less embraced.” 

“Where are your parents now?” councilman Nevan asked.

Eirik closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “They are no longer with us. My father passed away when I was ten. My mother...she didn’t seem to have the will to live without him. S-she...she died shortly after.” Eileen could tell that Eirik was uncomfortable and decided to spare the young man any more anguish over his family. She cleared her throat and continued.

“So tell us about your profession, Eirik. After your initial training as a fighter you joined the guild of shadows?”

“No. No, I joined the Defenders. I requested stationing in Snowdonia as one of the defenders of Myrddin.” Eirik managed a slight smile. “I guess I had an unusual affinity for the cold land. I requested this assignment because I preferred to defend what I had come to know as my homeland rather than getting involved in conquering others.”

“But you are a mercenary, are you not?” queried Eachann. 

“I,” Eirik paused, “I was expelled. I had to leave the Defenders.”

“Why was this?”

“One day, when my company was retaking Caer Hurbury from Hibernian forces, we had cleared the keep of defenders only to find a young celt boy cowering in the tower. He was too young to defend himself. Some members of my company began tormenting him – torturing the poor lad. What they were doing was not...honorable.” Eirik closed his eyes in memory of the incident. “Anyway, my commanding officer was not pleased with my actions that followed.”

“Which were?”

Eirik hesitated. “Let’s just say that a couple of my compatriots have scars for the rest of their lives by which to remember that day.” The highlander sighed and continued. “I was to die for my treason but my commanding officer, Captain Rhodri, intervened and stopped my execution. I was sent to the Guild of Shadows since they were the only ones who would accept me, and I was trained as Rhodri’s hired help.” Eirik sneered at the thought of his old commander. “I was allowed to live and remain more-or-less free, but I was always in that man’s debt and the threat of execution still loomed over my head. Anyway, all this happened a long time ago.”

“And what happened to the young celt boy?” Eileen finally asked.

“They killed him. I’m sorry.” Eirik wiped his eyes before looking up after Liam finished translating. He saw no accusation in Eileen’s face, but her companions did not seem so forgiving. Once again he heard the people murmur behind him.

“It is not your fault. What’s past is past.” Eileen tried to comfort the visibly disturbed fighter. “Let us concentrate on the present. Tell us why you were in Hibernia’s corridors of Darkness Falls and how you came upon a certain young, celt _girl_.” Eirik immediately grew nervous.

“Y-you have to believe me that is was not my intention to go there!” He calmed down before continuing. “I went there to collect daemon seals to trade with the imps. I had joined a group of strangers and before I knew it, our group leader had led us there to slaughter any Hibernians remaining once their entrance had closed. I was not prepared for such a fight and before I knew it we encountered a single group of your people.” Eirik stared off into the distance for a moment before focusing on Lady Eileen. “I’m still not sure how I managed to survive but I was the only one left standing when the battle was finished. That’s when I found Keeley in the imp shrine.”

The highlander paused to see if he had to continue. When no one spoke he resigned himself to finishing the story. “Keeley was badly hurt but I could not find a way to help her. When the Hibernian entrance reopened, I thought the best thing to do would be to put her where someone who could help her would find her.”

“Why did you not kill her?” came the dreaded question from Eachann.

“I know no one will believe me, but I saw no point in killing someone so helpless and close to death.”

“You thought it would be better to let the daemons finish the job they started? Or perhaps just let her die slowly due to her wounds?”

“No! I told you that I didn’t know how to help her. I wasn’t going to kill her quickly just to end her misery. She still had a chance.”

“Enough, Eachann,” Eileen commanded while trying to bring some order to the room. When the crowd had quieted down again the elder turned back to the young fighter. “Tell us about your second encounter, Eirik.” The highlander turned from Eachann to answer the lady’s question.

“I had joined my companions’ campaign to go back to the dungeon to hunt down and destroy the daemons before they ventured too close to Albion. It was near the crossroads that we encountered Keeley and her group. She was a little out of her depth, to say the least.” Eirik tried again to find Keeley in the crowd before turning back to Lady Eileen. “I still wonder why she went back there after her last experience, but now that I think about it...” Eirik stopped short of finishing his musings. “My companions and I were about to attack, but we got caught up in the same group of daemons she was fighting. When I saw that Keeley was in trouble I just acted without thinking. Like I said: she should not have been there.” Eirik tried to weather the looks of disbelief from the council elders.

“I just got her out of there as fast as I could,” Eirik continued. “I pulled her to safety and dragged her into one of the portals. I…I don’t really know how those portals work, but we _both_ ended up at the Albion keep in your frontier. I guess it didn’t know what to do with us and made a compromise. It was probably for the best since once I got her out of there she was safe and closer to her home.” Eirik took a deep breath; reliving the tale was turning out to be more emotional than he thought.

“Albian,” Nevan began, interrupting Eirik’s thoughts, “do you know what happened to your friends after you abandoned them?” The question surprised Eirik.

“I imagine they got out alright. They are good people and experienced fighters.” The highlander frowned unsure where the question was leading.

“I’m afraid not, Nevan.” Eachann answered, turning to his fellow councilmember. “We were told that only the female briton escaped. The rest of your friends died, Eirik.” Eirik detected a hint of smugness in the councilman’s voice. The news hit the highlander hard. He seemed to waver a bit before lowering his head and whispering a prayer.

“They knew and accepted the risks. That’s the life we lead.” _Oh, God, Isabella. Please forgive me._

After giving the Eirik a moment, Eileen continued. “I’m sorry for your loss, Eirik. May I ask why you didn’t go back to Albion?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? Word had already reached my former commanding officer of our first encounter in Darkness Falls. I doubt I would be allowed to live after saving a member of the enemy twice,” Eirik explained keeping his eyes on the ground for a moment longer.

“And…” Eirik thought hard for a moment, not knowing how to explain his feelings, “for Keeley. There is a bond between us, I cannot deny it. I don’t know if this was destiny or an act of God that brought us together, but I do know that I would do _anything_ for her; even if it meant risking death in coming here. I came here...because I love her.”

Liam stopped translating abruptly. Eirik looked at him and the ranger’s eyes narrowed at the highlander. When Lady Eileen became impatient and prodded the man for the translation Liam gave a defeated look and reluctantly told the council what Eirik had said. 

The intensity of the commotion at the back of the hut surprised everyone including Eirik who turned to see Keeley standing at the end of the isle with Ilisa trying to pull her back to her seat. The celtling managed to shrug off her mistress’s attempts to pull her back into the crowd. With tear-filled eyes, the young girl rushed to tightly embrace her lover despite his rank odor. Eachann tried to call the guards on the celtling but Lady Eileen intervened.

“Do you see?” Keeley spoke, turning to the council. “He’s not a threat. Not to us.”

“Mind your manners, Keeley. We’re all aware of your bias.” Eileen grinned as she spoke. “I think we’ve heard enough. The council shall recess.”

When the guards came to take Eirik back to his cell, Liam informed him of his situation. “You could be in luck, ‘highlander.’ You may live through this yet.” Eirik just stood there dumbfounded.

“What is your name, sir?” he asked.

“Liam.”

“Thank you, Liam. Thank you.” And with that, Eirik was led away.

*****

Keeley waited with great apprehension outside the village’s central hut. Only the council elders and the other members of the village council – trainers, tradesmen and women, and other important members of the village – were present at the final discussion; the rest of the village’s citizens had been removed. However as the evening drew late, no one retired for everyone was curious as to the fate of the newcomer.

Keeley remained removed from the main crowd as she stood in wait by herself. There were mutters in the gathering behind her as her people gossiped about her relationship with the half-Albion, half-Norse that had come to their land, but Keeley did not hear a word. Her focus remained on the hut which held her lover’s fate within. Keeley did not even notice when Liam stood beside her. The ranger looked at his ‘sister’ for a moment waiting for her to acknowledge his presence until he finally got her attention with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Startled, the celtling jumped. When she saw her friend beside her she relaxed a little and tried to smile at him.

“I didn’t know you could speak the Albion tongue, Liam,” Keeley said as she leaned against the ranger putting her head on his shoulder.

“I can’t,” he said, chuckling. “We’re lucky he knows Welsh. It’s not one if his land’s more prominent languages.” Keeley looked up to her friend.

“He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?” Keeley chuckled softly. “A Norse-Briton.” she mused softly to no one in particular. “He proves it can work, Liam. If his mother could find a home in a foreign land, then so should he.” Keeley returned her head to Liam’s shoulder and stifled a yawn.

“You’re tired, Keeley. You haven’t slept well in days; they could be in there all night.”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

Just then the door opened and Ilisa exited the hut alone. Keeley immediately perked up and her teacher, upon seeing the pair, approached them. Keeley held her breath.

“Well, Keeley, he can stay.” the blademistress stayed the girl’s enthusiasm quickly. “But there are some conditions which we shall go over later. It looks like you’ve won. We should release him.” Ilisa did not get a chance to finish her last sentence before Keeley bolted for the prison hut.

*****

Eirik had begun to nod off when his sleep was interrupted by someone calling his name off in the distance. He shook off the fog of drowsiness and heard the yelling get louder until the door to his hut flung open and the happiest woman in Hibernia burst through.

“Keeley! What’s going on?!” Eirik could only assume it was good news. The young woman pressed her face up against the bars and tried to give Eirik a hug, but made way for the guard behind her to unlock his cell. Eirik was elated and embraced his love upon receiving his freedom, but he was still unsure whether or not to celebrate. When Liam entered the hut, Eirik knew he would find out what was happening.

“Congratulations, Eirik, and welcome to Connla,” Liam said with a genuine smile. Eirik could hardly believe his ears. He looked down at Keeley who held him tightly and returned his gaze with glee. “But there are some conditions.”

“Aye? What conditions?” he asked.

“You are not to arm yourself.” Eirik was surprised at first but he quickly realized the reasoning behind the condition. “Second: It would probably be best if you remained here in Connla for a while until you get settled in. There are others but we will go over the minor details later. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” Liam smiled and gestured to the doorway.

The trio headed out into the village where they were met by quite a few onlookers. Most wore bewildered faces, but a few furrowed their brows in disagreement. However all of them could see the happiness the decision had brought their prodigal daughter. Liam led Eirik and Keeley to a small hut.

“Here you are. It’s small, but I’m sure you will find it more comfortable than your previous accommodations,” Liam quipped. “You should have a warm bath ready for you plus anything else you may need to get cleaned up. When you’re finished we will show you around.” Liam looked at the setting sun. “Before it gets too late.”

“Thank you again, Liam.” Eirik smiled then reached over to give the ranger a rib-cracking hug. Liam let out a groan.

“Don’t mention it!” Liam cried breathlessly. Eirik entered his hut and Keeley was about to follow when Liam grabbed her by the wrist. “I think he can bathe himself, Keeley,” the ranger chided. The celtling thrust out her lower lip in a pout but Liam did not relent. Keeley gave a contemptuous sigh and waited outside with her old friend.

*****

When Eirik emerged from his hut, Keeley beheld an almost new man. Bathed, shaved of nearly two-week’s growth, and dressed in clean Celt attire he could almost pass as one of Hibernia’s own. Keeley grabbed her man and played with his long, dark hair which was still wet. The celtling nuzzled Eirik’s chest and could still smell his unique scent under the fragrant oils he had used in his bathing. Keeley wrapped her arms around her lover and let out a long, high-pitched sigh. Eirik chuckled at her.

“Hello to you, too.” Eirik turned from Keeley to Liam who stood nearby. “Shall we get started?” he asked in Welsh.

Liam and Keeley showed Eirik the entire village and some of the surrounding countryside in order to help him familiarize himself with the area. Throughout the tour, Eirik and Keeley remained physically joined, never releasing hands for more than a moment. In the middle of the tour, Ilisa joined the three and aided in explaining more of the conditions of Eirik’s existence in Hibernia.

“You’ll have to cut your hair, perhaps even lighten the color a little,” Ilisa explained as Liam translated. This requirement displeased Keeley more than it did Eirik. “It will help you blend in. Also, we will be working out a way to break the news to Tir na Nog about your presence. We will try to broach the subject hypothetically at first.” Ilisa thought for a moment. “Perhaps your family’s own experiences will help us in this matter. But you must realize that we may never be able to reveal you to the rest of Hibernia. Connla is an isolated village where all kinds live in harmony. The same cannot always be said for the rest of our lands.”

“I understand,” Eirik agreed. “It would be a small price to pay.”

“And perhaps most importantly,” Liam added, “you will need to learn our language. I can’t spend all my time with you.”

By this time darkness had fallen and the four of them returned to Eirik’s hut. Beside the door a guard waited and Eirik looked worried. Liam saw the man’s concern and answered his question preemptively.

“For your temporary safety, my friend. You understand?”

“Aye.” Eirik nodded and turned to a bleary-eyed Keeley. “How do I say ‘goodnight’ in your language?” he asked Liam

“Oíche mhaith.” Liam chuckled.

“Oíche mhaith, love,” Eirik tried to pronounce. Keeley giggled at his thick accent and kissed him.

“Slán go fóill, a chiste!” she replied. 

Keeley staggered off sleepily and when she was out of earshot, Ilisa approached Eirik and spoke to him. Her words were punctuated with a slashing gesture in front of his groin. The elder blademistress looked the man straight in the eye for several moments then walked off to her own hut. Eirik was puzzled and looked to Liam for a translation.

“What did she say?” he asked. Liam sucked in his breath and thought for a moment.

“Let’s just say that until things settle a bit, it would be best if you ‘kept it under your kilt’ for the time being – if you understand my meaning.” Eirik blanched and the ranger left him to mull it over. “Now try to get some sleep,” he called out with a wry smile. The female guard at Eirik’s modest hut chuckled at him.

*****

_Sleep? How the hell am I supposed to sleep? _Eirik tossed and turned on his small cot. As if the day’s excitement was not enough, Ilisa’s words had left him in a state of near panic. Eirik continued to consider the consequences of his actions when he heard something at his door. The voices subsided then a figure crept into his hut and through to gloom.

“Keeley?” the fighter called out. Eirik lit the lamp beside his cot and the orange glow illuminated Keeley’s smiling face. He blew out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness you’re not an assassin,” he whispered. Keeley rushed over and leapt onto his cot, straddling the surprised half-norseman. Eirik laughed.

“You couldn’t sleep either, eh?” he asked. Keeley bent down to give her lover a long, deep kiss during which she began fumbling with the belt on his trousers. When Eirik realized what she was doing, he grabbed her hands.

“Whoa there, lass. I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Keeley was a little perturbed but ignored him and continued trying to undress both of them. “Keeley!” he hissed a little louder. “We can’t! Ilisa was very clear on the subject.” Eirik gestured towards the door.

With the mention of her trainer’s name, Keeley stopped. When she realized what was going on, she began grumbling in her own tongue. 

“What? What did Ilisa say to you?” Keeley let out a growl. “Dammit, she is not my mother and I am not a child!” Eirik tried to hush her before the guard returned, heard the two of them, or reversed her stance on the subject of Keeley’s presence in his hut.

Keeley remained straddling him with fists on her hips, and Eirik tried to sooth her by stroking her light hair. He pulled the lamp a little closer and saw the hurt look on her face. He sighed and pulled her down. Turning her around, Eirik snuggled up against her back as the pair lay together on the cot.

“Perhaps there is a way I calm you down and still retain my ‘claymore’.” he chuckled as he blew out the lamp. Keeley’s anger began to melt away as she felt a hand slide over her belly and into her leggings. The celtling spread her legs and let out a low moan as Eirik’s deft fingers slipped between the folds of her sex. Eirik slid his fingers deep inside her coating them with her copious wetness and spread it around. Keeley craned her neck around and her lover bent down to kiss her deeply, their tongues entwining. When Eirik’s finger glided past a fleshy button, Keeley gasped.

“Are you alright?” Eirik asked, pulling his hand away. Keeley clenched her thighs to prevent escape and grabbed Eirik’s head for another kiss. He could only assume he was doing it right. Eirik continued to stroke his lover, bringing her closer and closer to ecstasy. Keeley released their kiss and grabbed the cot to concentrate on her impending orgasm. The celtling began to cry out and her lover tried to stifle her with his free hand for fear of alerting the guard, or worse: a certain blademistress with a sickle.

Keeley’s tremors began to subside as Eirik slowly brought her back down to earth. “There, _that_ ought to hold you for a – whoa!” Before he could finish his statement Keeley spun around and pinned her lover beneath her. Stifling his protest with a kiss, Keeley managed to undo Eirik’s belt this time. “Ack, I’ve made it worse!” he laughed.

Eirik, still fearful of the consequences of letting things get out of hand, wrestled the girl back to cot. Relenting to lay beside him, Keeley ran her fingers through his hair and grabbed his head for another kiss. The fighter trembled as Keeley slipped her hand inside his trousers to grasp his erection in the soft palm of her hand. When she encountered a little wetness at the tip, Keeley broke the kiss for a giggle. 

_How convenient!_ she thought and stroked the fleshy tool, spreading the fluid over its length.

“So it’s a fight ye want, eh?” Eirik whispered between kisses. With that he once again slipped his hand between Keeley’s thighs to find that magic spot he had discovered earlier. The two lovers soon became engaged in a race. The finish line: the other’s climax. The prize: their own.

Keeley found it hard to concentrate on her lover’s manhood, but his gasps gave her some last minute encouragement and soon she felt his seed flood his trousers, coating her hand. Finally she was able to concentrate on her own climax. When it came, Keeley buried her face in Eirik’s neck to stifle her scream. This one was more intense than the first and Keeley was afraid – of what, she was not sure.

“D-don’t stop!” she whispered hoarsely as she tried her best to recall some of Eirik’s language. Eirik continued stroking her until her world exploded around her. Keeley’s breathing returned to normal after a moment and the two lovers disentangled their limbs to hold each other properly.

Keeley wiped the tears of joy from her eyes and kissed Eirik lightly over his face. Eirik felt drained but he knew that sleep would now come much more easily. He rolled onto his back and the celtling curled up with her head on his chest. Keeley felt the rise and fall of her lover’s breathing as he fell asleep. A few minutes later Keeley joined him.


	10. Friends and Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published October 4th, 2019

Day began to break in Connla. The morning sun was obscured by clouds which had brought with them chilly air off the cool waters of Shannon Estuary. The cold permeated Eirik’s hut and Keeley, though still fully clothed, felt the chill. The young woman began to wake and tried to stave off the cold by snuggling closer to Eirik who lay beside her. The young highlander, too, began to stir and instinctively clutched his bed-mate tighter.

Eirik soon shook off the night’s sleep entirely and remembered Ilisa’s threat, but when he looked down to see Keeley sleeping in his arms he decided that he really did not care. Eirik sighed and buried his face in Keeley’s hair to inhale the most intoxicating musk he had ever known. She began to moan in response to the disruption of her extra nap.

“Wake up, sleepy-head,” he whispered in her ear. Eirik stroked her cheek softly and Keeley tried to reach behind her to smack him but all she could manage was to grab his thigh and give it a weak squeeze. Reluctantly she got up.

The salt air from the shore came blowing gently into the hut. Keeley sat up on the bed, took a deep breath, and promptly dashed out of the hut holding her hand over her mouth. Eirik lay on the bed dumbfounded for a moment before he went in search of his lover. Eirik exited the hut but found neither Keeley nor their guard.

“Keeley?” he called trying not to disturb the whole village. Behind the hut came a retching sound and upon investigation Eirik found Keeley bent over next to a tree; the female guard was holding the girl’s hair back while she vomited. “Keeley?! What’s wrong?!” Eirik approached the pair but the guard quickly produced a blade with her left hand, all the while holding Keeley’s hair back with her right.

“Gabh transna ort fhéin!” the guard yelled, waving her sword menacingly.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Eirik threw up his hands in defeat and backed away. “I’m hardly responsible for her condition, you know.” The guard glared at him for a moment before turning to Keeley who was wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

“What’s wrong? What did that barbarian do to you?” the young guard asked. Keeley felt dazed by the peculiar and sudden onset of nausea. The celtling blinked and looked up at her friend.

“I-I don’t know, Romana.” Keeley sniffed the air and tried to suppress another wave of nausea. “Sweet, merciful…! Did something die on the beach?!”

Romana took a deep breath. “I smell nothing out of the ordinary. Are you sure you’re alright?” Romana cocked her brow at Keeley. Keeley paused for a moment when she suddenly remembered stories of the plague that had swept through Connla years ago. Her eyes grew wide. Keeley looked at Eirik who stood several paces away watching them.

“I think I’d better go see Keagan,” she said with a tremble.

*****

Eirik stood in the center of his hut and listened as the door was secured behind him by a new guard: a giant firbolg who did not seem as jovial – or as feminine – as Eirik’s previous guard. The wind had begun to pick up even more announcing a storm brewing over the ocean. Eirik sighed, sat down, and tried to relax. Not knowing what was going on in his life was beginning to take its toll on his sanity. The young fighter stood up again and began pacing the hut. It was then that he noticed the pack of his belongings at the foot of the bed.

Eirik opened it and began searching frantically. Most of his belonging, less his weapons and armor, had been returned along with his pack. Eirik flung most of the contents across the room and eventually dumped the rest rather unceremoniously on the bed. Sorting through the pile the young man eventually found the object of his search: a silver ring. Eirik turned the band around in his hand and inspected it closely.

“Thank God,” he whispered clutching the ring tightly in his fist.

*****

Liam the ranger entered the healer’s home to find its owner, Keagan, feeling Keeley’s neck. Her friend, Romana, sat beside the celtling holding her hand.

“Ah, Liam.” The healer smiled. “Trying to catch a glimpse of the ladies again?” Keagan said, glancing at Romana.

The ranger frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked turning to Keeley.

“I don’t know,” Romana answered for her. “She ran out of his hut this morning and...” Keeley interrupted her friend with a jab to the ribs and glared at her. Liam’s eyes went wide.

“You were with him last night?!” he asked sounding exasperated.

“Please don’t tell Ilisa, Liam! Please!” Keeley pleaded.

“Your teacher has a way of finding things out, Keeley.” Liam sighed realizing his protests too late and unproductive. “But I won’t tell her, I promise. Now, what happened?”

“I was sick. I-I thought it might be...you know,” the celtling’s voice trailed off. 

“I’m glad you’re all here, actually,” Keagan interrupted returning to the trio from his table. “No, my dear, it’s not the plague,” the healer turned to Liam, “Keeley is pregnant.”

*****

The highlander’s thoughts were interrupted by voices at his hut’s entrance. When Liam walked in, Eirik leapt to his feet in anticipation.

“Where’s Keeley? What’s wrong with her? Why have I been locked in here?” Eirik’s barrage of questions in his native tongue left the ranger at a loss until Eirik realized his mistake and repeated them in Welsh.

“Hold on, Eirik. Let me explain.” Liam paused for a moment. “Actually, that would take too long. Let me summarize: Keeley is with child.” Liam tried to stifle a grin upon seeing the highlander’s expression.

“What?” Eirik said after a long pause. Liam quirked his brow.

“Yes. It looks like Ilisa’s warning came a little too late, _daddy_.”

Eirik sat down and considered his new situation, eventually looking up at the ranger. “How is she? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, no. Just a touch of the ‘sickness.’ It’s perfectly normal. She and, as far as we know, her – and um, _your_ – child are fine.”

“Well, when can I see her?”

Liam sighed before answering. “Not right now. Things are progressing a little faster than we expected, Eirik.” Liam placed a comforting hand on the highlander’s shoulder then turned to leave. “You can wait here. I’ll come retrieve you soon.” The door closed behind the ranger but the guard did not lock it.

*****

Ilisa strode menacingly through the village towards Keeley’s hut without taking notice of some of the frightened glances or the people she nearly walked over. At nearly six feet, the Celt _Bladesong_ was an impressive and imposing figure: a fact not lost on Ilisa and a fact that she wished had not been lost on the foreigner who had invaded her homeland. 

Ilisa burst through the door without even a courtesy knock to find Keeley and her friend together. The two of them jumped and Romana abruptly stopped talking. The blademistress narrowed her eyes at Keeley’s hutmate before turning to her pupil. Keeley sat on her bed with her arms folded over her stomach and her eyes darting to the floor.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air before the elder blademistress spoke. “I would speak with you alone, Keeley.” Ilisa did her best to control her anger. Keeley nervously looked to her friend beside her.

“Please don’t be angry with her, mis…” Romana began.

“And you!” Ilisa spat angrily. “You were supposed to be guarding his hut!” The young guardian shrunk back. “Sentinel Glynis will be informed of your actions. Now leave us.” Ilisa watched as Romana gave Keeley’s hand a quick squeeze before slipping out the door. Ilisa turned her attention back to Keeley who now stood before her teacher.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” Ilisa asked softly.

“I love him, mistress.” Keeley’s tone was defiant but her lip trembled slightly.

Ilisa grinned despite her anger. “That’s your excuse for everything, Keeley.” The celtling chuckled a bit but Ilisa’s expression quelled her mirth. “Keeley, this is serious. You are carrying his child.”

“And what’s wrong with that? It’s not like he has brought the plague to the village.”

“And he’s very lucky for that! One word from Keagan and I would have been the first to put his hut to the torch with him locked in it.” Keeley fought back the anger that welled up after her teacher’s threat. Seeing her hurt expression, Ilisa calmed down. “I’m sorry, child. When I had heard you were with the healer I feared the worst. But we have a different problem now. We can’t have this child entering the world as a páiste ceo.” Keeley held her hands over her belly and stared at the floor.

“I know,” the celtling said almost inaudibly. Ilisa gave her a comforting squeeze.

“How are you feeling?”

“I-I’m scared, Ilisa.” Trembling, Keeley rested her head on her teacher’s shoulder. “I need to tell Eirik. I need him with me right now.”

*****

Liam approached the guardian on the shore and spoke. The tall firbolg turned to the ranger then pointed to Eirik who was sitting on a large boulder several paces away and staring off into the horizon over the sea. The boulder was the only blemish on the otherwise pristine beach for miles. It was curiously out of place on the shores of Connla, deposited there before the arrival of man and worn smooth by millennia of rain and waves. Now Eirik joined the rock in contemplation of ages gone by.

Liam watched the man for a few moments. The highlander did not move but continued to stare off over the water as the waves crashed loudly on the shore and around his rocky perch. The firbolg guardian tried to follow Liam down to the water as the ranger approached the highlander, but was dismissed with a wave from Liam.

When Eirik did not respond to the ranger’s presence, Liam thought hard before addressing him. “Nice day, no?” the ranger asked, trying to be heard over the gusting wind. Liam winced, embarrassed at his awkwardness. After a few tense breaths, Eirik finally spoke.

“It’s alright, I guess.” Eirik’s response was devoid of emotion. Liam came up beside the man and watched the water with him. The clouds were beginning to darken further and Liam could see the rain approaching the village. The ranger looked at the highlander and noticed he was fidgeting with a ring.

“Look, Eirik. I’m sorry I had to leave you in such a hurry. There were –”

“I never thought my life would turn out quite this way,” Eirik interrupted, still staring at the water.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. That’s all.” Eirik turned his attention from the water for the first time. Liam put on the kindest expression he could in an attempt to comfort his new friend. Eirik stared silently at the ranger for a moment as a light sprinkle began to blow in from the ocean. “Most of my friends are dead, Liam. The rest I’ll never get to see again. I’m stranded in a land whose customs and language I know nothing of. I’m a stranger in a strange land, and now I’m going to be a father. That is if Ilisa doesn’t kill me in my sleep.” Eirik climbed off the boulder and stood before his friend. Motioning to the ocean he spoke again, “I feel like...I feel like I’ve been tossed out to sea and I’m drowning.” The waves became louder as the rain increased from a mist to a drizzle.

“Sounds like you need something to cling to, Eirik. A ‘rock’ of some sort, aye?”

Eirik cracked a weak smile. “Aye.”

“Keeley. Keeley is your rock, brother.” Liam paused for a moment to think. “Eirik, you haven’t been dropped in the ocean. For us here in Connla, life is akin to a river. From your story of how you came to be here, I gather that you have also been letting this river take you where it likes. You have been through some rough moments in your life before so why the sudden desire to fight it? Ag snámh in aghaidh easa?” The highlander barely suppressed the smile in response to the ranger using his own analogy against him.

“And where does this river lead, Liam?”

“That I can’t tell you. Only fate knows that. But may I make a suggestion? Stop fighting it and see where it takes the two of you. You won’t be alone. This is a journey for both you and Keeley.”

Eirik thought about his mother’s own journey. _And what if I lose Keeley?_ he thought. _Will I suffer the same fate? _The highlander squeezed the ring in his hand until it hurt.

“Eirik?” came a small voice. Liam and Eirik turned around to see Keeley looking nervously at the two men. Pushing her wind-blown hair from her face, Keeley asked Liam a question. The ranger did not answer but instead turned to Eirik.

“I think you had better talk to her.” Liam began walking back towards the village.

“What? But how will I –”

“You two have been speaking the same language since you met. She’ll understand you.” With the firbolg guardian in tow, Liam left Eirik and Keeley alone on the beach.

Nervously, Eirik turned to the woman who had captured his heart. The rain soaked Keeley’s clothes and hair but the celtling remained standing a few feet away, staring back at the father of her child. She wondered if Liam had told him.

“A páiste?” the highlander asked. Keeley nodded slowly, unsure of how Eirik felt about their new situation. Finally Eirik held out his hand for her and Keeley rushed into his arms and buried her face in his warm chest. Eirik cradled her head close and breathed a relieved sigh. The celtling felt somewhat relieved that her lover had not rejected her, but she remained nervous. Eirik’s mind was whirling in the fear and uncertainty of his new life – and the painful memories of his previous life – when he felt Keeley moan into his chest. It was then that Eirik made his decision. Releasing his lady, Eirik held Keeley at arm’s length for a moment before brushing her wet hair from her face.

“Keeley?” was all he asked as he opened his hand and showed her the ring. The celtling’s eyes grew wide. The silvery ring gave off a blue glow for an instant as Keeley watched it shrink ever so slightly. “Take it.” Eirik said with a grin.

Confused, Keeley hesitantly reached for the ring. The celtling held the ring gingerly between her fingers and marveled at it for many moments. Keeley did not know what the symbols carved into the untarnished material meant, but she recognized that they were Norse in origin. Inside the ring she noticed an inscription in the Nordic language.

“What does it say?” Keeley asked in her own language. When she finally tore her gaze from the ring she saw Eirik kneeling in front of her. “What are you doing?” Eirik only smiled back in response to her words. Taking both the ring and Keeley’s left hand, Eirik slipped the ring on his love’s finger. The celtling forgot about the rain for a moment and stared at the highlander. Looking back at the ring on her finger, Keeley fell to her knees with Eirik and embraced him. “Pósfaidh mé tú!” she whispered in his ear.

*****

“She’s too young, Eileen.” Ilisa stood next to the village elder and watched her student and the highlander spar playfully in the field. Eileen smiled and uttered an amused chuckle. News of Keeley’s condition and her lover’s proposal had spread quickly throughout the village and had been met with near universal approval. Eileen returned her attention to the couple in question. Although still not allowed to arm himself, Eirik was engaged in a mock battle with his love; both of them were using wooden swords. Ilisa opposed the sparring match vehemently, but Keeley was not to be denied.

As per Ilisa’s recommendations, Eirik had his hair cut quite short and allowed a traveling dye merchant to work her herbal magic on his new short style – Liam slipped the woman an extra gold to ensure her discretion. The young man’s mixed heritage was almost completely hidden by his new light-brown hair.

“You know what happens to most of our students when they wed?” Ilisa asked rhetorically. “She’ll never finish her training. I just know it.”

“Don’t worry about Keeley, Ilisa.” Eileen soothed. “You said yourself that there is little more you can teach her.”

Ilisa sighed. “She has an unusual gift – I will grant you that – but it needs to be refined through her studies.”

“Well her young man seems willing to help her there,” Eileen quipped.

Ilisa frowned and watched as Keeley performed a fluid combination of moves to evade her betrothed’s latest offensive. The young blademistress’s swords moved in perfect harmony with the rest of her body as the two of them not so much as fought against each other, but danced together. Ilisa was stunned when Eirik performed a vicious attack in a style she had never seen before, but her jaw dropped when Keeley instinctively countered it. Eileen noticed the veteran blademistress’s astonishment.

“Aye, she is good, Ilisa, as is our new friend – uncommonly good for one of his age.” Eileen turned to her friend and smiled. Ilisa simply stared at the two combatants.

“What _was_ that? And _where_ did she learn...?” Ilisa turned to Eileen, but the druid had already disappeared.

“Hail, Ilisa!” came a voice behind her. Ilisa turned to see Liam. “Are they at it again?” the ranger queried, pointing to Eirik and Keeley.

“Aye. Again.” Ilisa sighed. The frustration in her voice worried the ranger.

“Give it time, m’lady. I know you have your doubts but you should trust Eirik,” Liam paused to let his words sink in, “and Keeley.”

“You’re much less cynical than I.” Ilisa smiled at the ranger. The woman turned and walked a little further away from Keeley and her sparring partner to a nearby tree and motioned to Liam to follow. “And how about you, Liam? How are you?” 

“What do you mean?” The sandy-haired celt frowned.

“Oh come now, Liam.” Ilisa cracked a warm smile. “I know how long you and Keeley have been friends and I also how deep your feelings for her run.” The ranger leaned up against the tree alongside Ilisa and watched Keeley for a moment before responding.

“I’ve never seen her so happy, Ilisa. It seemed that all the years that I had known her there had been something missing from her life and now this man has filled the void. Keeley is happy and that’s all that matters to me.” Liam sighed. “I’m just glad I could be instrumental in bringing them together even in some small way.”

“Oh so you’re the one I should thank?” Ilisa replied with mock anger. Liam chuckled. 

“I’m fine, Ilisa. Really, I am.”

Ilisa grinned at Liam for a moment. “Aye, I suppose you are. I hear Romana has been helping you with that.” Liam sputtered, his face turning a deep crimson. Ilisa placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Your secret is safe with me, young man.” Ilisa beamed with pride at having finally outsmarted one of the younger folk. Liam shrugged sheepishly.

“Thank you, Ilisa. You promise you won’t say anything to Keeley yet?”

Ilisa shrugged. “As you wish.” The older woman let the matter drop and sat down at the base of the tree with the ranger and the pair continued watching Eirik and Keeley until Ilisa finally broke the silence. “You don’t think he’s too old?” she asked looking somber.

“He’s barely older than I.” Liam winked at Ilisa before giving her a reassuring hug. The elder blademistress responded by ruffling the man’s hair and laughing in a way she had not done so in a long time. Keeley stopped to look at the pair and smiled before continuing with her battle.


	11. Past and Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published October 11th, 2019

“Run, Keeley!” Eirik yelled. The pair sprinted over the hill and across the field until they nearly ran out of breath. Finally tumbling to a stop in a patch of thick grass they watched behind them carefully. Over the hill a solitary spraggon made a beeline for their hiding spot. “Look out, he’s found us!” Keeley laughed at him hysterically and Eirik immediately joined in.

When the tiny, brown creature caught up with them, Eirik stood up to avoid its meager attacks. With each swipe of its claws, the spraggon barked angrily at Eirik who managed to avoid or parry each attack.

“I don’t think he liked you kicking him.” Keeley was now laughing so hard she could barely breathe and her face was turning red. Eirik continued his dance with the furious spraggon and just to be sure the fun continued he gave it a playful thump on the head with one of his swords. “Stop it! I’m going to wet myself!” the celtling managed in between fits of laughter. When she started to hiccup uncontrollably, Eirik decided the game was over.

After a few more moments the spraggon realized it was never going to win and ceased its aggression. With one last bark the little fellow turned and ran off leaving Eirik to tend to his lady. Keeley sat up and waited for her hiccups to pass and Eirik lay down beside her with his head in her lap. 

“We should do that again.” Keeley tried to ignore her betrothed. Her hiccups still jostling Eirik’s head, Keeley tried holding her breath. “Yes. Maybe a bigger one next time. One that can put up a real fight!” Eirik raked the air with his hands like a pair of claws and snarled. Keeley burst into laughter again aggravating her condition.

“Stop that! I _will _pee on you if you don’t stop!” Keeley thumped her lover lightly on the head to reinforce her point. Eirik smiled and got up to cradle his love from behind in hopes of expediting her recovery. As Keeley’s hiccups subsided, Eirik surveyed the countryside. Since the time of his release, he had gotten to see a great deal more of Keeley’s homeland and its beauty never ceased to amaze him.

“Where are we now?” Eirik asked. Keeley looked around for a minute and hummed.

“North of Ardagh. Just a little.”

“Ah.” Eirik continued to stare at the fields bordering patches of thin woods. “God, this place is wonderful.”

“Didn’t you have anything like it back home?” Keeley immediately regretted bringing up her love’s homeland. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s alright, mhuirnín.” Eirik kissed the back of her heard. “No. Well, actually the Salisbury Plains are a little like this, but you wouldn’t go there to relax, that’s for sure.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh...giants, wild pigs the size of giants, nymphs with giant tempers. You know…the usual fair.” Keeley turned around. Her shocked expression caused Eirik to grin broadly.

“No!” Keeley said in shocked disbelief. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” Eirik tried to keep a straight face.

“No! Really! I swear I’m not making this up. Don’t you have giants here?”

“None that I have met,” the celtling said turning around to lean back against Eirik’s chest. Keeley sighed and grabbed her love’s arms to wrap them tightly around her chest. The morning’s clouds began to break up revealing the noon-day sun which brought with it an unusually warm late spring afternoon. Keeley groaned as she got up. 

“Shall we continue?” the lady blademistress asked. Eirik sat on the ground below her for a few moments then winked.

“Aye. Let’s go.”

The day grew hotter as Keeley and Eirik traveled north towards Tir na Nog. By late day both were sweaty and tired. Eirik began to wonder when Keeley was planning on stopping for a break. Suddenly, the celtling gasped. Forgetting the heat, Eirik leapt in front of her and grabbed his swords. Keeley fought back another fit of laughter.

“You plan on defending your lady with wooden swords?” she asked. Eirik frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Keeley turned him around and pointed to the lake.

“I’m hot, and I wanna swim, silly.” Eirik sheathed his useless weapon and considered his lover.

“Would you please stop doing that? You’re going to give me a heart attack. Remember that time you shrieked when you saw that pixie and I thought it was heading straight for us?” the fighter scolded. Keeley giggled at the memory.

“Mmmmm...she was cute, wasn’t she? Now c’mon. Into the water!”

“Well...I’m not much of a swimmer actually,” Eirik replied sheepishly. The celtling frowned then thought a moment. Facing her betrothed, Keeley slowly walked backwards towards the lake, a mischievous smile curled her lips.

“I think I can make one of ye.” Eirik was about to disagree but was silenced as Keeley began undressing. The celtling kicked off her boots then seductively unlaced her tunic. Panicking, Eirik looked around for any hostile beasts, or worse: patrolling sentinels. When he turned around he found Keeley at the water’s edge. The young woman hooked her thumbs into the waistline of leggings and began to shimmy her hips. Eirik’s breathing became ragged as her bare pubis came into view. The celtling stepped into the shallow water and let her tunic fall open revealing the faintest hint of a bulge in her tummy.

“Coming?” the nearly naked celt asked. Keeley backed further into the water as Eirik approached.

“You’re hankerin’ for a spankerin’, young lady,” Eirik threatened in his native tongue. Keeley simply smiled at him and let her tunic fall off completely. Grabbing it before it hit the water, the celtling held it up to her chest and let it slide across her breasts. Eirik narrowed his eyes at her and she tossed the blouse at him. The young man caught the garment and dropped it next to the rest of her clothes then began frantically disrobing. Keeley laughed as her man fell over trying to take off his leggings. Finally free of his clothes Eirik stood on the shore.

Keeley stood in the water up to her waist and eyed her love’s naked form for a moment. He was tall, but not a giant like the firbolgs she had known. She always felt he was just the right height for snuggling in his chest. Keeley then examined his manhood which had already begun to grow under the influence of her striptease. The celtling’s own breathing grew ragged and she motioned for him with one finger. Eirik waded slowly into the water.

“Ack! Cold!” The naked man shivered slightly. Keeley gave a look of mock concern.

“Mmmmm...not _too _cold, I hope,” she said reaching for his ‘claymore’ as he like to call it. The pair embraced and stepped into deeper water. “Nope, not too cold at all.” Keeley moaned as she pulled his head down for a deep kiss. Eirik began to repay her attentions and his hands wandered down her back to her buttocks to give them a strong squeeze. Keeley nearly yelped as his fingers teased the crevice between her cheeks. The young celt released her love’s cock and let him pull her hips into his. Keeley ground her pubis into Eirik’s thigh for several moments as they kissed before speaking.

“Mmmph! Shore!” she spoke between muffled moans into her lover’s mouth. The strong man released his prize and Keeley immediately splashed to shore towing him by the hand. Once out of the water, Keeley released her love and made a dash for the trees. Eirik quickly followed and found the celtling leaning up against the moss-covered trunk of a large oak. Stopping a few yards away, the young man stood and marveled at Keeley’s beauty. Her wet, blond hair was pushed back from her face and her normally pink lips were turning a deep red. Eirik approached as Keeley grabbed a low branch with one hand and thrust out her chest slightly. Her breathing was becoming almost labored and her mouth hung open slightly.

“Is dócha nach bhfuil seans ar bith ann?” Eirik quipped as he pulled her left knee up to his hip. Keeley shivered slightly as she felt his stiff member graze her inner thigh. Unable to wait, the celtling grabbed her lover, wrapped both legs around his waist and locked her heels at the small of his back.

“Just take me!” she hissed into his ear. Eirik complied sliding himself into Keeley’s wetness a little too fast. The celtling winced slightly feeling him stretch her canal, but she was grateful that her love did not relent and began meeting his rough strokes with thrusts of her own. The two soon became drenched in sweat as their dance grew more and more intense. Keeley’s passion exploded and Eirik felt her grip on his shaft tighten causing him to release his seed. When he began to slow the pace of his thrusts, Keeley grabbed Eirik’s head.

“No! Don’t stop!” The celtling brushed her lips along his neck and felt her love resume his thrusts. Keeley felt the stirring in her loins begin to grow again. Nearly losing her mind to her animal passions, Keeley began to nip at Eirik’s collarbone and claw at his back. Eirik responded with quick, sharp thrusts into her and with each thrust Keeley let out a small yelp. Keeley’s climax was slow in its arrival but what it lacked in speed it made up for in intensity. The celtling’s vision became blurred as her body convulsed. Every muscle in her body continued to twitch for several minutes as Eirik finally relented. The pair crumpled into a heap at the base of the tree as Eirik’s softening erection slipped out of his lover. The lovers held each other as their breathing returned to normal until Eirik finally broke the silence.

“What brought that on?” Eirik asked as he rolled the two of them onto a soft patch of grass. The celtling did not hear him and simply rested her head on his chest letting her senses slowly return. Eirik brushed some green moss off Keeley’s back with a chuckle. When she finally returned to the real world, Keeley simply smiled and heaved a deep sigh.

“I needed that,” she said turning her head to the other side to look her love in the eye.

“I was happy to give it to you.” The pair laughed together and rested.

*****

“Eirik?” the young woman asked as she played with her ring.

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this and now you seem to know enough of our language...” Keeley paused for a moment, not sure if she should continue.

“What is it?” Still naked, Eirik look up at his wife-to-be who was staring at the ring he had given her. Keeley looked nervous.

“What does this say here?” The celtling pointed to the inscription on the inside of the ring. Eirik sat up and hugged her close.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Keeley sounded astonished.

“No. I’ve never found anyone who could translate it for me. It’s a very old, archaic Norse language.” Eirik took the ring for a moment and inspected it.

“Where did you get it?” Eirik did not respond immediately to Keeley’s question and became distant. “I’m sorry, Eirik. I did not mean...”

“No, Keeley, it’s alright, honestly. I think you should know.” Eirik sighed. “My mother gave it to me.” Keeley stroked the back of her love’s head.

“What happened to her?” Eirik smiled weakly in response to the foreseen question and stared at the ground for a moment.

“This was a month to the day after my father had died from his illness. My mother had been grief-stricken the entire time. I was ten summers old and didn’t know what do to. That night she came into my room just before I fell asleep and kissed me. Then she just slipped the ring onto my finger and left.” Eirik’s tears betrayed the sadness behind his stoic demeanor and Keeley’s eyes began to well up in sympathy.

“The next morning some of our friends came to me and told me my mother’s body had been found in the Sauvage forest. She had been killed by soldiers of Midgard. They probably didn’t even know she was one of their own.” Eirik looked up at Keeley finally.

“Eirik, I’m so sorry.” Keeley tried to comfort her lover and hugged him close. Eirik sighed into her naked bosom. “Was she trying to go home?”

“No. She wanted to die. My mother didn’t want to live without my father. He was the whole world to her. The guards remember her walking blindly out into the forest. They said they tried to warn her but she didn’t seem to hear them.” Keeley had no words for Eirik and just held him close and stroked his hair. Eirik tried to break away.

“It’s alright, Keeley.”

“No it isn’t, Eirik. It’s a terrible thing to happen. But I’m here to share your grief, aye?” Eirik smiled at his love which lifted Keeley’s spirits slightly.

“Aye. Thank you.” The two embraced for a long time before speaking. 

“So why did she give you her ring?” Keeley finally asked. “Was it significant to her in some way?

“I’m not sure why she gave it to me, but yes, it was very special. She used to tell me the story of how the ring had been passed from mother to daughter for more generations than anyone could remember. But my mother had no daughter.” Eirik stopped telling his story for a moment to reflect on the statement. “Only me.” The young man wiped his eyes. “When I learned more about the Norse gods I began to wonder if Eir had punished my mother in this way for leaving her order.”

Eirik turned to Keeley and tried to smile. The celtling did her best to console Eirik. “So the line was broken?” she asked.

“I guess. But now I give the ring to you.” Eirik brightened up a little. “Perhaps we can begin a new tradition. I have a feeling she would have loved you as a daughter.” Keeley blushed and tears began to leak from her eyes again. She gave Eirik a kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Keeley?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask you about your parents?” Keeley wiped her eyes and smiled.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” she chuckled lightly. “There was a plague in the land many years ago. Not many people survived. My parents died when the sickness swept across Connla.” Eirik was stunned by his love’s bluntness.

“I-I don’t know what to say to that. What do you remember?”

“Images mostly.” Keeley shrugged. “I was so young I – barely able to speak. They were a very happy couple…and young. Ilisa told me that my mother was not yet seventeen seasons when I was born. She was the daughter of a fisherman and my father was actually from Caille, or so they tell me.”

“What do you mean?” Eirik queried. Keeley stopped stroking his hair and let her hand fall from his head to his chest.

“Well...the village was wiped out almost entirely by the plaque. Very few people remained. I was one of them. Not many people remember much about my father, or my mother for that matter. Connla used to be a very transient village.”

“I’m sorry.” Keeley smiled genuinely at Eirik.

“It’s fine, Eirik. I’m glad I can finally tell you, though. There is no need to dwell on the past. What I want is right here in the present, anyway,” she said giving him a squeeze. Eirik chuckled at her and pulled her on top of him for a long hug. “I love you, Eirik!”

“I know,” he replied.

“Can I ask you something else?” the celtling asked sitting up on top of her love.

“You’re going to use up your questions fast if you keep this up!” he laughed. Keeley frowned at him.

“Hey! I’ve barely been able to ask you anything since we met, and you haven’t been able to answer me anything either!” she scolded mockingly. “I don’t care what the answer is; I just want to know.”

“Ask away, mhuirnín.” Eirik ran his hands down her shoulders and held Keeley’s hands as she looked down at him. The celtling bit her lip nervously.

“Am I your first?”

*****

“That man is up to something, mark my words.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Rhodri’s lieutenant. Captain Rhodri climbed the steps of Snowdonia Fortress followed closely by a second man shrouded in a dark cloak.

“This plan of his makes very little sense. It will eat up resources and men needed to defend the borderlands. And the fact that J’nar has asked _me _to be in charge reeks of some treachery.”

“But did the council not decide that, captain?” the lieutenant asked. Rhodri sneered before turning to him to answer.

“J’nar has a hold on them. I have no proof, but I am sure of it. Never trust a mage; especially one from the Guild of Shadows. In fact: never trust _anyone _from the Guild of Shadows. Do you understand? They have only their self interest in their thoughts and plans.”

“Aye, sir. What shall we do now?”

“We have no choice,” Rhodri replied. “I cannot go against the council without proof of treason. We must follow their orders and begin the buildup.”

“Aye, sir.” At the door to his barracks, Rhodri turned around and spoke in hushed tones to man.

“Speak nothing of this. You understand? You’re the only one I trust, Cresil. Keep your eyes open at all times. Don’t fail me.”

“As you wish, sir,” replied the lieutenant. Once Rhodri closed the door, Cresil quickly disappeared down the steps and into the night.

*****

“I’m nervous. Very, very nervous.”

“You’ll do fine,” Liam whispered to Eirik. The two men stood next to a fountain that radiated a soft light that cast a beautiful golden glow throughout Druid’s Grove. “All you have to do is be here.”

“I’m just worried that someone is going to notice me for what I am!” Eirik hissed back. “Oh God, why did she have to have the wedding in Tir na Nog?”

“Recognize you as what? A nervous groom?” Liam grinned. “Anyway trust me. You are _not _going to be the focus of attention here.” Eirik gave a contemptuous huff and straightened up. Despite his nervousness he still managed to notice the grand beauty of the Hibernian capital city. So intrigued by the city’s buildings and markets that Eirik had almost forgotten why he was there. And when the time came, Liam had to pry the incognito fighter away from a bard and her saucy puppet show. 

Eirik looked around the grove. It was late evening and the sun had just set. Several bards were playing music as guests sat themselves. Eirik recognized most as being from the village, but there were quite a few folk stumbling in, obviously looking for a celebration with which to begin their night’s festivities. Lady Eileen – who had insisted on performing the binding ceremony herself – stood in front of Eirik and Liam. Eirik did not fully understand his homeland’s wedding rites, and the Hibernian binding ceremony was proving even more confusing.

“Tell me again what I do when Keeley arrives.” Eirik whispered to Liam.

“You shut up and try to look handsome for a change,” Liam laughed. Eirik thought about the translation for a moment then jabbed the ranger in the ribs. Liam responded with a smack to the back of Eirik’s head and the pair engaged in a small scuffle. Eileen had to restrain them before Keeley arrived.

The bards suddenly stopped their music and a single bard took up a new song on her lute. Eirik straightened up when he saw Keeley enter the grove and walk slowly towards them. Eirik could hardly believe his eyes. Keeley wore a sheer white dress that was only draped over her body and when she passed before a torch Eirik could see the outline of her naked body beneath. Liam grinned and leaned over to his friend.

“You lucky bastard,” he said. Eileen hushed the ranger before Keeley could hear any more. Eirik just stared open-mouthed.

_She’s beautiful_, was the only thought in his head.

With the couple together, Eileen bound their hands together with a leafy vine and began the ceremony. Eirik remembered very little and, before he knew it, the two of them were wed on the summer solstice and the celebration had begun.

*****

“They’re drunk and having fun. Even if they knew who you were I don’t think they would care,” Keeley laughed. Eirik had been nervous the entire night. Some of the female patrons even insisted on dancing with him and Keeley would not let her husband refuse. Eirik could only oblige a large, furry dancing companion.

“Let’s not test your theory, shall we?” Eirik replied.

By early morning the reception had moved to a large tavern on the edge of the city and Eirik was confronted on all sides by elves, lurikeen, filbolgs, as well as celts. Some of the guest were armed which added to Eirik’s discomfort.

“How much longer are we staying?” Eirik asked. Keeley had grown tired herself, but sidled up to her husband and began to sway.

“Mmmmm…not long. Just give me one more dance.” Eirik could tell his bride was not going to be denied and accepted his fate. The dance was a fast-paced, happy jig and Eirik had trouble keeping up, but in the end he found himself having more fun than he could remember. Once the dance was finished and the crowd finished its drunken applause, the bride and groom snuck out of the tavern to their inn. With a wink the innkeeper showed the couple to their room and left. Eirik grabbed his wife from behind and gave her a squeeze.

“I’m going to wash up, Keeley. Are you going to wait for me?” Eirik winked at his bride.

“I’ll be right here, my sweet.” As he disengaged, the celtling tugged on his sleeve for a quick kiss. When Eirik returned, Keeley was not in the room. Looking around, Eirik found a balcony beyond some curtains and stared up at the moon. However his celestial observation was interrupted by a light snore. Looking down, Eirik saw his sleeping bride curled up in a very large cushioned chair at the end of the balcony.

“Poor girl,” he whispered. Eirik gathered a light blanket. Soon the highlander and the celt were curled up together on the chair and sleeping peacefully under the stars.


	12. Endings and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published October 25th, 2019  
This chapter has been altered somewhat since its original posting 2002. A copy of the original can be found on fanfiction.net.

“Are you sure you want to head back tomorrow?” Keeley looked up from her writing. Eirik, her husband, stood in the doorway. Their room at the small inn at Caille had been their home for the last three weeks but had been decorated by the couple as though it was meant to be permanent. Keeley had replaced the curtains over the windows with ones she had found at the local market and Eirik had placed the skins of two large beasts on the floor and the bed to stave off the cold of the approaching winter. The innkeeper had protested loudly when Keeley’s husband wanted to mount the heads on the wall, but Eirik placated his anger by promising to donate them when they left.

Keeley stared in silence at her husband for a moment. Against her initial wishes, Eirik had grown a beard to keep his face warm against the cold weather, but the young woman had quickly grown accustomed to the prickly feeling on her lips and cheek and even enjoyed the scratchy growth rubbing her thighs. Keeley smiled at the memory then turned back to her quill and paper to finish her thoughts.

“Aye, I would like our child to be born in my home. Besides, our business here is finished and I think we can make it back to Connla safely before any winter storms.” Keeley finished her work and closed the book. Tucking the skillfully bound tome in her pack, the celt woman tried to stand up. Seeing her struggle, Eirik rushed to his wife’s aid. Keeley smiled up at him as he guided her to the bed. The oil lamp on the bed stand illuminated a sexy silhouette of her bloated form through her thin nightgown.

At nearly full term, Keeley’s pregnancy made even the most mundane tasks difficult. She had always enjoyed her journal but lately she could not sit at her desk for more than a short while before the aches began. Keeley lay on her back in the large bed and Eirik tried to cover her with the warm blankets and furs before she stopped him.

“I’m too warm,” she protested. Eirik smiled and snuggled up beside her. Lifting her gown to expose her body, the young man ran his hands over her firm belly then down over her legs to give his wife her nightly massage. Eirik worked on Keeley’s feet before moving up to her calves and thighs. The celt woman moaned and closed her eyes. She had always loved the selfless attention her husband would show her constantly due to her pregnancy, however this time she suspected he had ulterior motives. 

As hard as it was for Keeley to believe him, Eirik never failed to make her feel sexy. Her husband’s libido seemed to thrive off her pregnancy and in fact both of their passions had grown over the last few months. However tonight Keeley felt too tired and sore to perform her wifely duties. _I don’t want to hurt his feelings,_ she thought to herself. Keeley opened her eyes to see her love’s concentration fixed on her rounded tummy. _Mmmm...perhaps not._

The young woman pulled her husband up the bed for a long, luxurious kiss then, with a twinkle in her eye, shuffled down the bed. As best she could, Keeley began a massage of her own. Her dexterous fingers worked their way up Eirik’s leg to his groin. Their Keeley found that her original assumptions as to her husband’s intentions to be incorrect, however her actions quickly brought life to the previously dormant area. Keeley grinned at her mistake. _Oh how I LOVE this man. Oh well. No sense in letting this go to waste._

“Come here, _papa!_”

“What?”

Keeley placed a finger over Eirik’s lips and tugged at his leggings. “Not a word, love.” When Eirik realized what his wife was doing, he grinned and relaxed. Slowly his erection came into view, and Keeley wrapped her fingers around its girth. It was soft, yet hard…and warm, Keeley thought to herself. Keeley began slow gentle strokes, her soft hand gently sliding up and down the length of Eirik’s erection.

Eirik’s soft moan warmed Keeley’s heart. She loved playing with her love like this. And she loved to tease. It was not long before a clear bead of fluid appeared from the tiny slit at the top of her husband’s cock. Keeley released her grip slightly and caught the glistening drop before it could fall. 

The young celt woman stopped her ministration and considered the slippery substance for a moment. Keeley spread the drop across her thumb and forefinger, feeling how slick it was. She looked up at Eirik and cocked her brow mischievously. Eirik simply look at her through lust-laden eyes. Keeley giggled then noticed another drop had appeared.

The blonde woman quickly returned her attention to her husband’s erection and smeared the glistening liquid over the tip with her finger. It was a light touch. Keeley knew this and – as expected – Eirik’s groans grew louder. She grinned and released her husband from his torture.

Wrapping her free hand firmly around his cock, Keeley resumed her firm strokes up and down while she idly played with the tip. Soon her fingers became drenched in the slippery, sticky fluid that was now pouring forth copiously from Eirik’s cock.

Keeley was in heaven – as she knew Eirik was, too. Nothing compared to making him happy. Well, almost nothing. She received her fair share of attention from her husband, but this was different: this was pure power, power over the one she loved so much. Keeley looked up. Eirik’s eyes were shut completely. He was lost in the sensations. Keeley watch as his expressions changed with her ministration on his cock. It was almost too much fun.

For many breaths, Keeley lovingly stroked Eirik’s erection while she watched his face. Soon she grew tired and switched hands, propping herself up on her elbow. She looked down and marveled as her fingered ran up and down the glistening pink skin. Keeley surreptitiously inspected the cock in her hand and realized she was getting wet with desire.

But tonight was not the night for that; she was too tired. She desperately wanted to ride her husband to a blissful climax, but there would be plenty of time for that. Keeley sighed and her thoughts drifted back to their wedding. A broad grin spread across her lips at the memory.

“Mmmmm…” Keeley mused. That was a wonderful night, but an even better morning. Keeley could not help herself. It was too devious, and she loved it.

Pulling herself up slightly, Keeley took a quick look at Eirik’s face before licking her lips and engulfing the tip of his cock in her mouth.

“Oh my God!” Eirik exclaimed, his eyes flying open. It took him a few breaths to come to his senses. “Mhuirnín, you don’t…”

Her mouth and one hand still wrapped firmly around his erection, Keeley again placed a finger on his lips, shushing him. Despite his misconception, this was not a chore for Keeley; it was _never_ a chore. The celtling moaned as she slipped her mouth off Eirik’s cock and ran her tongue over the tip, eliciting a groan from her husband. 

It was not something she did all of the time – that would not make it special – but Keeley loved the feel of his firm cock in her mouth. It was so powerful to tease him and bring him off this way. The most sensitive – and vulnerable – part of his body held tightly in her mouth. It was time to end his torment and remind him who was in charge. 

Keeley smiled around Eirik’s cock. With firm strokes she ran her fingers up and down his erection while sliding her lips and tongue over the crown. Eirik’s breathing grew ragged and Keeley knew he was about to lose control. When she felt him gently place his hands on her head, she giggled and let his cock slip further into her warm mouth. Keeley let him hold her head in place as she felt his cock swell ever so slightly.

The rush of hot seed never failed to surprise her no matter how many times she did this. With a slight choke, Keeley tried her best to swallow while holding her husband’s cock firmly in her mouth. With each pulse, her mouth fill with seed – more than she could swallow – and the excess began to trickle from the corner of her lips. When the eruptions ceased and Eirik’s breathing began returning to normal, Keeley slowly pulled her mouth off swallowed the last of the warm, sticky liquid.

The celtling sighed and curled up alongside her husband, throwing her leg over his thigh while she gently stroked his withering member. When she lookup at Eirik, Keeley saw him dead to the world and giggled.

“That was…” Eirik trailed off. Keeley pulled herself up, her enormous pregnant belly making it difficult until Eirik wrapped his arms around her. When she reached her goal, Keeley grabbed Eirik’s head in her hands and kissed him deeply. He never seemed to mind the remnants of his own seed on her lips, something for which she was grateful. What was good for the goose was good for the gander.

Keeley took a deep breath. Releasing the kiss, she slid back down to cuddle, and rest her head on Eirik’s chest.

“I love you,” she said.

“You certainly do.”

*****

“Keeley?”

“Hmmm?” the celt woman answered. The two of them had recovered from their activities and lay in bed watching the candles burn down several inches.

“I was thinking about names for our child. I was thinking ‘Peadar’ would be a grand name. Or, if by some chance it is a girl: ‘Iya.’ It’s getting awful close. We don’t want our child born without a name, do we?” Eirik grinned. By this time Keeley had propped herself up on her elbows and was giving her husband a curious look. The two stared at each other for a moment before Keeley’s giggling broke the silence. Seeing the hurt look on Eirik’s face, she quickly stopped.

“Oh. You were serious.” Eirik began to panic. His confusion indicated to Keeley that she needed to explain. “I’m sorry, dear. I thought you knew. We don’t name a newborn child...”

“What?!” Eirik was even more confused. 

“Wait, let me finish.” Keeley lay back down and pulled her husband closer to feel the entire length of his naked body against hers. “We don’t name a newborn child. It’s...” Keeley paused, searching for the words. “It’s more the child tells you their name.” Eirik still looked confused. Keeley sighed. “It’s probably hard for you to understand because you haven’t been so close to her all these months. When she’s born you’ll understand; it will be like magic to you...and to me.” Keeley nuzzled Eirik’s bristly face and brought his arm to the base of her swollen belly to cradle their unborn child. Eirik stroked the underside of his wife’s belly and felt a small pang of sadness. But a realization suddenly hit him.

“What do you mean ‘she’?” he asked, sitting up abruptly. Keeley, her eye’s closed, grinned.

“Did I say ‘she’?”

“What do you mean ‘she’?” he asked again. Keeley opened her eyes and bit her lower lip.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Yes, sweetheart: we’re going to have a daughter.” Eirik was dumbfounded.

“How...how long have you known?”

“A couple months now. You’re not mad are you?” Keeley looked worried.

“No. No, of course not.” Eirik nearly laughed. The joy on his face was immeasurable. “How do you know?” The young celt woman smiled and looked thoughtful.

“Oh, different mothers-to-be find out in different ways. Me? I’m certain we’re having a girl because I saw her in a dream.” Keeley eyes seemed to focus beyond the ceiling. “She was beautiful, Eirik. And strong. But most important she was full of love.” Eirik stared at his wife who seemed to be in a trance as she continued to describe their daughter while rubbing her belly absentmindedly. Keeley suddenly broke from her reverie and looked at Eirik to gage his reaction. The father of her child was staring intently at her belly.

“My God,” Eirik thought out loud, as he curled back up against his wife. “You know so much. Is there anything else I’m missing out on?”

“Oh just the agonizing pain of childbirth. Would you like a taste of that, too?” Keeley laughed. Eirik could not help but groan at falling into her trap.

*****

The next morning the pair departed Caille. Eirik insisted on purchasing a horse and cart so his wife could travel in some semblance of comfort and the inn-keeper was only too happy to sell them what they desired. The air was cold that morning but the warming sun had begun to creep over the hills.

“Up ye go, lass.” Eirik helped his pregnant wife into the cart then finished loading the rest of their supplies into the back.

“Are ye sure ye won’t be needin’ anything else?” the innkeeper asked.

“No, that should be all.” Eirik climbed onto the cart next to his wife. The innkeeper finished checking their horse’s bindings.

“Well, safe travels to ye, and blessings to the baby.”

“Fare thee well, sir!” Keeley called out as they departed. The innkeeper watched for several minutes until the cart had disappeared down the road then turned around in time to see several arrows flying towards him.

*****

“It has begun, my lord.” 

J’nar turned to the speaker. “Excellent. How far ahead are they?”

“About half a day,” Cresil replied.

“We shall leave at once. You know the plan?” 

“Aye, m’lord.” J’nar smiled at his subordinate and turned back to the window.

“This will be a great day indeed, Cresil. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to be rid of that man. And to think he will be the instrument of his own destruction.” The ancient avalonian began to cackle. The infiltrator simply stood by, silent.

*****

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” Eirik, too, heard the rumbling off in the distance. Eirik and Keeley had made good time and were nearing the halfway point of their journey. But before they reached Mag Mell, the noise had begun. It sounded like thunder but the sky was almost clear. Suddenly another rumbling shook the ground. “That’s odd.”

“No, it’s from behind us this time. Look!” Eirik turned to look at what his wife had seen. Behind them a dozen or so of Hibernia’s defenders were charging on horseback towards their cart. Keeley tried to catch their attention as they passed. “What’s going on?!” she yelled over the din. And elf maiden slowed down beside them. Eirik tried to understand the hasty explanation, but all he heard was “Albion” and “attack.” Keeley’s face turned white.

“Keeley! What’s going on?!” Eirik’s wife looked frantic.

“No! Eirik, we have to get to Tir na Nog!”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“Just go! Quickly!” Keeley was nearly in tears. Eirik whipped their horse into a gallop. The riders had passed the cart and were far ahead when the pair round the hill and the city came into view. Eirik could not believe what he saw. Tir na Nog was in flames. Several orange fireballs erupted from the woods north of the city and streamed towards the towers. A group of Hibernia fighters charged the area but were met by plated soldiers, some bearing the crests of Eirik’s old company. Keeley jumped from the cart and tried to run to the city, but Eirik grabbed her when he saw more Albion soldiers filing in from the north. 

“No! Let me go!” Keeley screamed.

“Keeley, wait!” Eirik grabbed her and pulled her back. Keeley struggled to break from his grasp but Eirik held his wife up against the side of the cart.

“We have to help them!” Eirik turned her around and showed her the soldiers not two hundred yards away who were setting up ballistas.

“We can’t! There’s too many of them!” Eirik watched as three more groups were swallowed up in the Albion onslaught. “There’s nothing we can do here. We must get word to the south.” Keeley’s eyes pleaded to her husband. Before she could say another word the ground beside the cart was ripped apart by a wizard’s fireball. Eirik shielded Keeley as best he could but the horse was spooked and broke free of the cart. Eirik check his wife for injuries. 

“Keeley! Are you alright?” All Keeley did was wince in pain.

“Páiste!” she cried. _No! Not the baby,_ Eirik’s mind screamed

“Keeley! Is the baby hurt?” Keeley just shook her head and clenched her eyes shut.

“The baby...she’s coming.”

“What? How...?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s coming _now!_” Keeley finally opened her eyes. “Look out!” Eirik ducked in time to miss being decapitated by a paladin’s sword. Taking advantage of the soldier’s fumbled attack, Eirik flipped his attacker’s visor open and sent his fist through the opening. Stunned, the armored warrior staggered backwards a few steps allowing Eirik to knock the sword from his hands. A muffled scream emanated from the paladin’s helmet as the ex-mercenary shoved the blade through the tough breast plate.

Keeley watched in horror as her husband yanked the crimson blade out of the paladin’s chest. Finally shaking off her fear, Keeley pulled herself up to retrieve her own blades from the cart as the paladin’s companions drew closer. Eirik cursed his lack of proper armor or weapons but before he had time to think an assassin sprung out from behind a bush. Eirik barely managed to deflect the initial blows. The Saracen Warder quickly switched weapons and spun around with his new blade leading the way. Eirik parried the first attack but the assassin’s second blade nicked his forearm. Even though he could feel the burning, Eirik knew the wound was not deep enough to give the poison a chance to work its way further. The two men continued to duel, but before Keeley could come to Eirik’s aid, another soldier charged on her. 

Keeley steadied herself and stood poised for a counter attack with her twin short swords at the ready. The kilted fighter wore no helmet and the celtling could see the cruel glee in his eyes as he bore down on her with his pike aimed straight for her heart. As the invader neared her position, Keeley’s womb contracted sharply causing her to scream. Every combatant in the area paused for a moment. The armsman who was about to attack the celt woman hesitated in confusion since he had yet to touch her. Eirik seized upon the pause. 

Before the infiltrator could react, he felt Eirik’s booted foot plant itself squarely in his groin. The saracen’s eyes rolled back into his head as he dropped to the ground. Running the saracen through and taking one of his stilettos Eirik turned his attention to Keeley’s attacker.

With two weapons, Eirik was now more in his element. The armsman stood little chance as the dual-wielding fighter worked his blades between the gaps in his armor. However, just as Eirik felled the armsman, the final member of the group arrived and dismounted from her horse. Eirik was taken aback when this new chain-armored fighter produced a whip.

“Arawanite!” he growled. The woman merely smirked and lashed her weapon across Eirik’s chest. Eirik winced in response to the wound but quickly recovered and flew into a furious attack. The ex-mercenary put on a mighty display of two-bladed skill but the reaver held him at bay with her shield. Stepping back to rethink his strategy, Eirik dodged the woman’s whip once more before attempting a head-on charge. This time he managed to grab her weapon hand but the reaver slid her shield between them before Eirk could bring the stiletto home to her mid-section. Eirik used the momentum of his attack to force the woman backwards against a tree. The two struggled against each other in vain and, throughout it all, the woman continued to grin at Eirik almost maniacally. Casually the reaver leaned her head in close and ran her tongue up Eirik’s cheek obscenely. Horrified, Eirik broke off his attack and checked himself for poison. The woman responded with mocking laughter after licking her lips in satisfaction.

“Damn you, woman!” Eirik’s flawless curse in the woman’s own language erased her smile. Eirik charged in taking advantage of the reaver’s confusion, but her skill with her shield proved a difficult obstacle. Eirik was getting nowhere until the woman suddenly stiffened. Opening her mouth in a silent scream the reaver fell to the ground revealing Keeley standing behind her holding two bloody swords.

“Just die,” the celt whispered to the dying woman. Keeley turned around to face the burning city that had stood for so many years. The city’s defenders were losing the battle. More of Hibernia’s finest were arriving from the south but their numbers were too small to make a difference. Eirik and Keeley watched as another one of the city’s grand spires crumbled under the onslaught of fireballs. 

“How did this happen?” Keeley spoke softly then dropped her weapons and held her stomach, wincing in pain. Eirik rushed to hold her.

“We must leave.” Keeley simply nodded stoically and grabbed a bag of her belongings off the cart. Eirik wrangled the dead reaver’s horse and hefted his wife up into its saddle. 

“To HyBrasil, then. We’ll be safe there.”

*****

“Almost there, Keeley.” The pair had abandoned their mount when it became clear it was not going to make it all the way to the portal. It was dusk by the time they had reached the edge of Shannon Estuary and a light snow had begun falling. On foot, they could hear the Albion forces closing in and Keeley’s frequent contractions made travel even slower. “There’s the bridge! We’ve made it!” Breathless, Eirik and Keeley ran for the crossing but not before a fireball hit the ground beside them. 

Eirik was thrown back as Keeley was thrust forward onto the bridge. Dazed, Eirik managed to get up. Keeley tried to run to him but another orange ball of flame ripped across the bridge setting it aflame. Husband and wife were cut off from one another. 

“Keeley! Run!”

“Eirik!” The celt woman refused to abandon her husband.

“Go!” Eirik pleaded for his wife to get to the portal but it was too late. Another bolt of flame hit the bridge blasting most of it into the water. Eirik stood and stared. Keeley was nowhere in sight. “No.” His lament was almost inaudible.

“You!” Eirik spun around to face the source of the accusation. Before him – having witnessed everything – stood Ilisa brandishing her crescent swords. The blademistress stood out starkly against the snow-covered ground; the flames from the burning bridge illuminating her dark blue armor. “You did this! I don’t know how you led them here, but I’ll see to it you die for this!”

“Ilisa, no! Wait!” But Eirik’s protests were in vain. The outer signs of her rage disappeared as Ilisa poised herself for attack then leapt at Eirik with both blades flying. Eirik rolled to the right, barely avoiding the attack. Repositioning himself away from the bank, the young fighter raised his mismatched weapons in a defensive posture. Ilisa recovered from her initial attack and spun on Eirik but her first blade was deflected. Bearing down hard with her other crescent sword, the blademistress tried to push her opponent off balance, but Eirik intercepted the attack with the stiletto in his left hand.

“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this!” 

“Lies!” 

Ilisa twisted her sword around, knocking the stiletto from Eirik’s grasp. Eirik evaded her next strike and dived for his lost weapon. The maneuver put enough distance between him and the blademistress to allow Eirik time to recover.

“Don’t do this, Ilisa! I beg you!” Ilisa ignored Eirik’s pleas. As she advanced on him again, Eirik waited until the last moment to kicked a pile of snow into Ilisa’s face. But years in the defense of Hibernia had taught the seasoned blademistress to expect such trickery. Ducking the flying mud and snow easily, Ilisa dove into the fight with a ferocity Eirik had never witnessed before in an opponent.

Balls of flaming pitch continued to sail over the two combatants. The countryside was set alight and the resulting flames illuminated to the snow-covered hills of Shannon Estuary. Another fireball roared overhead, and an explosion forced Eirik and Ilisa to pause. The two fighters turned to see parts of Connla in flames. Eirik’s heart sank. Ilisa growled.

“My country, my home, and my people: destroyed because of you!” Ilisa lunged at Eirik again nearly catching the highlander in his shoulder. Eirik grimaced. The exhausting flight from the advancing army all the way from Mag Mel had taken its toll on his strength. He had been given no time to grieve for his wife. His adopted home was crumbling around him. He began to wonder if this was truly all his fault. Eirik’s anger began to rise as he continued to ward off Ilisa’s blades.

“I was trying to save her!” he yelled. Ilisa roared in response and slashed with both blades, sending Eirik scrambling for footing.

“She was more than my student! She was a daughter to me!” Ilisa pushed Eirik back towards the flames. “And you took her! _You_ killed her!”

_You killed her!_

The words ripped Eirik’s heart in two. Something deep inside told him Ilisa was right; that he was responsible. Keeley was dead because of him. Eirik’s mind began to lose connection to the world around him, and to the fight with Ilisa. The boy who had lost both his parents curled up and cried while another part of him – the seasoned mercenary – continued his fight with the blademistress.

_You killed her!_

Despite his unfamiliar weapons, Eirik was now able to hold Ilisa at bay. Something primal deep within the half-norseman was beginning to take over. Something more than instinct. Slapping away a twin-bladed attack, Eirik slipped in closer and swiped at Ilisa’s belly. The woman leapt out of the way – as Eirik expected her to – and Eirik brought his stiletto in to pierce her flank. 

Ilisa intercepted the stiletto, locking the blade with the barbs of her crescent sword. Tethered by their hooked and immobilized blades, the pair fought with one blade each. Eirik slashed wildly with his other sword, his attacks becoming vicious. Eirik seemed to hold the advantage with his long sword’s great reach, but Ilisa defended herself with tremendous skill – even with her left hand. The fight appeared to be at a standstill until Ilisa forced Eirik off balance. The highlander used his remaining weapon to compensate, but Ilisa used the opportunity to hook Eirik’s longsword as well.

With both of his blades locked and useless, Eirik growled and pushed Ilisa back towards the river. The blademistress’s boots carved a pair of runs in the wet ground as she tried to push back against the highlander. Despite her abilities, Ilisa was no match against the Eirik’s raw strength. 

But Ilisa stared the man down none-the-less. Even with both blades locked, she was calm. The seasoned blademistress closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Oblivious in his rage, Eirik continued pushing Ilisa towards the river. Suddenly another blade appeared next to Ilisa, floating above her. Before Eirik could react, the shimmering golden blade swung around slashing upwards across the highlander’s face.

Eirik fell back, crying out and clutching his left eye. With the saber lock ended, Ilisa prepared to finish her foe. But before Ilisa could attack, another ball of flaming pitch from the advancing army cut her off leaving a wall of flame between her and Eirik. The blademistress took cover from the flames giving Eirik time to recover. Ilisa looked through the dying flames to see the highlander pulling himself up. Eirik staggered, propping himself up on his longsword. When he turned to face his foe, even the stalwart Ilisa felt a chill.

His left eye gone, and his face covered in blood, Eirik heaved as his rage seethed through him. Dropping the stiletto, Eirik held the longsword in both hands as he stared at Ilisa.

“I’ll fucking rip you to pieces.” 

Ilisa took up a defensive stance, her shimmering ethereal blade moving in harmony with her crescent blades. Gone was the man who had saved a young Celt woman, a man who placed the value of the lives of his enemies above his own. Before the blademistress stood the Hand of Modi.

With a blood-curdling howl, Eirik charged, leaping over the flames. Ilisa flew into action as her opponent landed on top of her. Eirik’s weapon sliced the air above with the intent of chopping Ilisa in half. Ilisa’s ethereal blade intercepted the heavy longsword, but her riposte immediately deflected. Eirik’s attacks were mindless but their lack of skill compensated by their sheer ferocity.

Ilisa’s focus narrowed. The Celt _Bladesong_ was a veteran of many battles – against both man a beast. She had trained many to the level of skill equal to her own, and was regarded as one of the best blademasters in the land. Ilisa’s connection to land, the magic of Hibernia, and her own blades allowed her to enter into a trance. Her body and her three blades moved as one. Despite Eirik’s ferocious attacks, Ilisa’s three blades kept him at bay.

A scrap of sanity left inside Eirik’s mind knew the battle would turn in his foe’s favor. Raw strength and mindless hacking with a sharp weapon were no match for carefully honed skills. The highlander fought through the fog of anger despair. Searching for an opening in Ilisa’s defenses, Eirik tried to push the blademistress off balance and grab her left sword.

However, Ilisa had seen this move before. Seeing her opening, Ilisa flipped her right blade over and spun around knocking Eirik’s longsword out of the way. It was over in a heartbeat. Before Eirik could recover, Ilisa’ left crescent sword slashed him across the chest as her ethereal blade sliced across his arm. The young man dropped his stolen longsword crying out in pain. Ilisa closed in for the kill just as another fireball landed between the combatants.

Eirik bore the full brunt of the explosion that sent him flying several yards away; landing hard on the ground. Only slightly dazed and missing one of her blades, Ilisa brushed the dirt from her face and picked herself up off the ground. She saw Eirik lying unmoving on the ground a short distance in front of her. Their battleground was spotted with small pools of flaming pitch that cast the area in an orange glow, and illuminated the moonless night.

“D’anam don diabhal,” Ilisa cursed as she spat in his direction. Ilisa sheathed her remaining sword and turned around to escape across the river only to step right into an assassin’s blades. The attack pierced the arteries in her neck and Ilisa grabbed at her throat in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. The briton female stepped back and prepared for her next attack, but Ilisa staggered backwards a couple of steps before slumping to the ground as the poisons stole the life from her body. The infiltrator cautiously poked at the woman to be sure she was dead. Satisfied, she made the signal.

“All clear, sir!” Out of the trees, a soldier in officer’s plate approached the spot where Eirik lay. The soldier examined the man for a moment then prodded him with his boot. Eirik was slipping in and out of consciousness and could only groan softly in response. Looking up with his one good eye he saw the armsman staring down at him through the slit in his helmet. After a moment of silence, the soldier removed his helmet and tossed it to the infiltrator.

“Mercenary. Surprised to see me?” All Eirik could do was lay beneath the captain in pain. He brought his hand back up to hold his wounded eye and Rhodri laughed. “Once again, mercenary, I’ve found you in a rather difficult position. Only this time,” he paused, “I don’t think I can save you.” Eirik clenched his eye shut and felt the pain of his loss and exile as well as the physical pain from his wounds. It was gone. Everything was gone. The love of his life, his friends, his adopted homeland were all gone. Eirik had nothing left to lose.

In the blink of an eye Eirik grabbed Rhodri’s ankle and flung his foot out from beneath him. Unbalanced in his plate armor, Rhodri fell to the ground beside his captive. Eirik found Ilisa’s second sword with his right hand and swung it down onto his former captain. The blade cut through his armor like butter, piercing the man’s heart. Before Rhodri’s life ended, Eirik leaned over him and last thing he saw was the one-eye, bloodied face of his former servant.

“Then I’ll have to save myself, you son of a bitch!” Eirik gave the blade in Rhodri’s chest an extra push, sending him to his death. The infiltrator that had witnessed everything was stunned by the ferocity of the attack but she soon recovered from the shock and drew her weapons.

“Hold, assassin!” came a voice from the shadows. The infiltrator paused. Before her approached an elderly mage flanked by two cloaked figures. Ignoring them she advanced on the prone fighter, preparing to avenge the death of her captain. 

“I said ‘hold’, Katherine!” Startled, the woman examined her caller more closely before recognizing him as the leader of the guild of shadows. J’nar smirked, waiting for her next move. Torn between loyalties, the young rogue stood in fear for a moment before standing down and sheathing her weapons. “Very good,” J’nar spoke. 

“We will take care of this, if you please, lieutenant,” Cresil said as he watched the young infiltrator hesitate before slinking off into the shadows. Cresil motioned to his companion to follow her. When both he and the girl were gone, Cresil took up a guarding position while his liege approached Eirik.

“Well, my boy, it looks as though I have even more for which to thank you. You have just taken care of a big problem of mine and in a way I could not have done better.” J’nar looked over Rhodri’s corpse; the Hibernian crescent sword sticking out of his chest. “Looks to me like our fine Captain was killed in battle with the forces of Hibernia. Wouldn’t you say so, Cresil?” The assassin only stood silently beside his lord. J’nar chuckled before turning back to Eirik. “You have worked so hard all these years and without even knowing it. So here is you reward, boy.” The ancient cabalist raised his staff over Eirik’s head. Eirik tried to shield himself from the blinding light that followed.

*****

In the Grove of Domnann the peaceful air was pierced by the sounds of a woman in labor. In the hollow trunk of one of the great trees, several sylvans tended to the wounded, pregnant woman brought to them by the ranger. Liam held Keeley’s hand tightly as another contraction approached. The young woman screamed in pain.

“She is badly injured,” one of the natives told the ranger.

“Tell me something I don’t know, dammit! Help her!” The sylvan woman sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Liam’s shoulder.

“We are doing everything we can,” she spoke in soothing tones. Liam heard someone call his name and looked up to see Romana running up the stairs.

“Liam! What happened?” Romana grabbed Keeley’s other hand opposite the ranger. Liam looked into Keeley’s eyes which were wide with terror.

“She was thrown into the water. I managed to get her out and through the portal.”

“And Eirik?” the young guardian asked. Keeley’s gaze switched from Romana back to Liam. Liam did not answer.

“Eirik! Where’s Eirik?” Keeley screamed as she felt another contraction. When Keeley was not looking Liam shook his head at Romana sadly.

“Eirik!” Keeley cried out again. “Where’s Eirik?”

“Eirik will be here soon,” Liam told her despite his lack of hope for her husband’s safe return. The Sylvan woman held Keeley’s head and tried to calm her.

“Keeley, your baby needs you now.” The Sylvan’s words played on Keeley’s ears like a lullaby. Keeley let out another shriek as her child began to crown. “Good. Good. Now another push, Keeley. You can do it.” Liam and Romana both felt Keeley squeeze their hands tightly to the point of pain. Keeley released her breath and gasped for air. A few seconds later an infant’s cry was heard and a tall Sylvan woman placed Keeley’s newborn on her chest. Keeley’s face grew calm and she released her companions’ hands to hold her child. The world around her seemed to stop as the baby girl opened her eyes and looked up at her mother. The celt woman’s face shone pure bliss.

“H-hello,” Keeley paused for breath, “Abaigeal.” Liam stole a glance at Romana who could barely hold back her tears.

Keeley took the towel handed her and swaddled her newborn. The amber light that emanated from the room’s magical sconces was gentle on Abaigeal’s brown eyes allowing her to survey her mother’s face. Keeley held her child close to her skin and mother and child delighted in each other’s touch. Quickly, Abaigeal latched on to her mother’s nipple and savored her first taste of her mother’s milk.

“Liam,” Keeley whispered to the ranger. Liam listened close as his friend’s words trailed off.

“Keeley?” Liam urged the young woman back into consciousness but it was no use. Abaigeal began to cry just as Lady Eileen entered the room.

“M’lady! You must help her!” the ranger pleaded with the elderly druid. Eileen crouched next to Keeley and placed her hands on both her and her child and closed her eyes. After a few deathly silent moments, Eileen opened her eyes and shook her head.

“I am sorry, Liam. I cannot. Her spirit has traveled too far from this world and does not seem to wish to return. Perhaps for what she is looking is not here.” Romana came to Liam’s side and held him as his tears broke.

*****

Keeley’s body was interred in secret in HyBrasil. An ancient sylvan shaman cast several wards around the site as Eileen performed the ceremony. “These spells will keep the fauna at bay.” The old tree-man spoke in a gravelly voice. “They will keep her earthly vessel safe for as long as needed.” A dark mood permeated the unremarkable ring of trees. Liam and Romana watched the ceremony in silence. Romana carried Abaigeal who slept peacefully in the guardian’s arms. Back at the Grove, Eileen spoke.

“Any sign of the others, Seril?” The portal guardian shook her head. “Then we can only assume Ilisa and Eirik did not survive.” Eileen paused for several moments in contemplation before she heaved a heavy sigh. “Close it,” she commanded evenly. Liam protested but Eileen silenced him and addressed the portal guardian again. With a solemn wave of her hand, the portal’s energies dissipated and only the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning dawn could be heard. Liam and Romana followed Eileen back into the settlement.

“What happened, Eileen?” The elderly druid knew this question to be on everyone’s mind. She motioned for them to follow.

“We do not know for sure, Liam. Albion’s forces found a weakness in our frontier gates. Druim Ligen was the first to fall. Only the elf Glasny – the Channeler of Druim Ligen – survived and she has yet to shed any light on the subject. The Albion army is sweeping down the land killing all those who resist.”

“Then we are safe here in the Sylvan’s home,” Romana tried to assure herself as much as others. She looked down and gently rocked the sleeping Abaigeal. “Safe, but trapped,” she told the child. Eileen turned to the fair-haired woman.

“We are neither safe nor trapped. It will only be a matter of time before Albion learns the secrets of the portal. Once they do this place will be flooded with their kind and all of the defenders who made it here to supposed safety will be wiped out.” Eileen sighed and continued walking. “We must speak with Glasny. There is only one place we can go.”


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published October 25th, 2019

Katherine-Marie Lovejoy, the Briton Infiltrator of Albion, crouched in the tall grass on the hill overlooking Lord J’nar’s camp. The early-winter storm that had brought with it a light snow, had passed leaving the sky clear and the air chilly. As the morning sun crept over the hills it revealed the town of Connla on the north bank of the estuary. The Albion soldiers that had arrived the night before had turned much of the snow and earth around the town to mud. The young Katherine surveyed the town from her perch – questioning everything she had seen and done.

_Why had Lord J’nar stopped me?_ she asked herself over and over during the night. Assigned to protect Captain Rhodri, Katherine had failed miserably. The only thing she could have done to redeem herself would have been to avenger her commander’s death. But when Lord J’nar had appeared alongside Lord Cresil – the very man who had placed her at Rhodri’s side – she had been stopped.

_Why?_ She thought. _And who was the man who had killed Rhodri?_ Katherine remembered the captain had called the man “mercenary.” They seemed to know each other, but how? The man had yelled something in the Celt’s language right before he plunged the crescent sword into Rhodri’s heart. Katherine replayed the events over and over in her head, trying to make sense of it. It had all happened so quickly. She had barely taken a breath before it was over and her commander – a man she had come to respect in the brief time she had known him – was dead. 

A ruckus across the river briefly interrupted Katherine’s thoughts, but she could not see what happened. The incident was over as quickly as it started and seemed to resolve itself, leaving Katherine alone with her thoughts again.

_What is Albion doing here? What am _I_ doing here?_ Katherine sighed. She wanted adventure, but all she had found was bloodshed. Katherine considered abandoning her post and leaving Hibernia for good when she saw someone approach the camp from across the river. A female cleric in full battle armor was quickly making her way to the camp’s _infirmaria_ tent.

“What in the hell?” Katherine whispered to herself. This camp belonged to J’nar – the leader of the Guild of Showdows, Katherine’s own order. J’nar’s hatred of – and feud with – the Church of Albion was well known. The Church had no issues with the Guild of Shadows, but despised J’nar and his influence in Camelot. A cleric in the Shadows’ camp could not possibly end well.

The cleric disappeared into the infirmaria tent. Katherine waited breathlessly as one of the guards left and quickly returned with Lord J’nar and another in tow. After a few tense moments, the cleric left the tent alone and seemingly unharmed. Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. She had no quarrel with the Church, and had seen enough bloodshed recently to last her the rest of her life. The young infiltrator was about to turn and leave when the cleric cried out to someone in the tent.

“Eirik!”

“Oh my God!” Katherine gasped, pushing the tall grass aside. “Eirik?” Suddenly a twig snapped behind her, and Katherine spun around to see another member of her order. A saracen assassin stepped out of the brush, his twin stilettos already drawn.

* * *

The end of _The Morlock Chronicles Part 1: The Highlander and the Celt._

* * *

Dedicated to the unknown Celtling in Darkness Falls.


End file.
